Ruin Me
by BleedingHeartsoftheWorldUnite
Summary: Three little words, that's all it took to ruin everything.
1. Another New Kid, Another Conquest?

Kenny McCormick's life wasn't great. Still one of the poorest families in South Park to this day, Stuart and Carol McCormick may have been cowed by Mysterion into cleaning up their act enough to actually call themselves parents, but they were still alcoholics with a tendency to use and therefore be negligent and somewhat abusive. House fuller than ever before, Kevin had dropped out of school a few years back to get a full-time job, but on the downside he was engaged with both a baby on the way and a kid from a crazy ex-girlfriend. Karen was at _that_ age and just starting to date; given the family track record, it was highly likely that her story would only end in another statistic for teenage pregnancy. As the protective older brother, Kenny had taken every opportunity to teach her to be better than what the rest of them were, however, she was unfortunately at that rebellious stage where she _knew_ _everything_ and everyone else was either "retarded or a major asshole that was trying to control her life". Thankfully at heart she was still that sweet timid girl she always had been, but that additional attitude wasn't always the most fun to deal with.

Home shit aside, that wasn't to say that the blonde didn't have some things going in his favor. For one thing, he did have a means of coping when life got a bit too intense; the select stash kept tucked on his person at all times and a beaten old flask in his back pocket opposite a second-hand flip phone were his two best friends. For another, the boy had his dashing good looks, winning sense of humor, and the unbeatable combination of dreamy baby-blues and a crooked smile that could make any girl and a number of guys putty in his hands. Ok, so maybe he wasn't perfect on the inside or the out, but if there was anything in his life he could say was truly stable, it would be habit: his parent's habits, his brother's habits, his own. It didn't matter, because if your last name was McCormick, chances were better than good that the night ended the same way - you woke up drunk in a ditch smelling of cigarettes and vodka, missing a shoe and sporting a black eye. Fun times for a night, not a fucking lifetime.

 _Goddamn, his life fucking sucked_. Reflection the norm, the poor kid tossed to his back with a pronounced sigh - ribcage tender from being kicked around as the vigilante Mysterion and aching bruises crying out in protest from getting slapped around some more by his drunk mother and inebriated father, he closed his eyes and thought. Kicking ass and taking names was one thing, but those quiet moments lying bed just waiting so patiently for sleep to take him? Most nights it started out as worry for his little sister, and then it would translate into a blanket effect for her and his nephew, but not tonight. Tonight he was replaying the events of that day, mind rewinding to the very first moment they met the new kid that had moved into the house between the bus stop and where Butters lived. It was the same house that King Douchebag used to live in.

Sepia-toned in crudely fluctuating degrees, the scene flickered dim as an antiqued film reel in his mind as he endeavored to relive the moment. A canvas of bright blues as rich as an uncut jewel that had been selfishly tossed in the sea by an old woman on the eve of her death, the sky was home to a lingering tail of snowy cocaine spilled from God's back pocket and the darkened, crappy cutouts of a bunch of birds in flight. Desensitized to the presence of humans, or maybe it was just that dumb and/or suicidal, a tawny dear sniffed at the crisp air by the side of the road before getting frightened and leaping off. Over three feet at this time, and for pretty much most of the year, the blanket that covered the town was as fresh as the purest sugar. When the snows did actually melt away, there was revealed the most fertile brown earth and grass as green as emeralds. As was only possible for a mountainous region, the temperature was just low enough to be able to clearly discern one's own breath hanging in the air like an apparition of mist. There was a homeless guy across the street who was missing most of his teeth and part of his shoe, but he was passed out from the countless bottles that surrounded him, or maybe he was dead; either way, he was of no consequence to anyone.

"Guys, guys!" Panting from the 'extreme' effort of blazing up the pavement like the excitable fat-ass he still was, Eric Cartman raced up to the bus stop as fast as his stunted legs would carry him, one hand stretched out for the other guys as if they would dare to leave him behind. They had tried once or twice, but it was a cold day in hell when it happened without consequence.

 _Jesus_ , Kenny had thought to himself while pulling out a home-rolled cigarette from the front pocket of his coat, _if only it could have been that easy._ Kyle and Stan particularly loathed the habit, but the redhead was the only one of them that was especially vocal about it, always chiming in about the risks smoking posed to both Kenny and those around him. Stan made a little more sense, going at it from the angle that if he did the same he criticized his parents for, it made him no better than they were. Removing a lighter from the opposite cavity, the blonde ignored the glare the bookworm threw his way and lit up the bent paper stick.

Speaking of corpulent cancers, if they hadn't all witnessed it for themselves over the course of their lifetimes, none them would have believed that their little Hutt could have grown into most of the excess weight so that he now resembled a human being. In other words, Cartman might have now been of a more acceptable stature (he was still obese, but at least now there wasn't a medical staff on hand should he slip into cardiac arrest during class), but they would always rip on him for being the fat one. "You homos will never guess what I just saw! Come on you guys, guess!" There was an uninterested silence that followed the open invitation, and Kyle simply rolled his eyes. Proximity mandatory, time told them beyond the shadow of a doubt that being ignored didn't sit very well with the bulky brunette. "I said guess, Goddammit!"

Forced to tolerate him only because there was no other choice in the matter - shy of murder - the three boys peered disconsolately between each other to see who would take this one for the team, Kyle was the first to shrug it off with a silent 'I did it last time'. Interested in his tattered sleeve all of a sudden, the resident blonde in the group examined a fraying thread that had loosened itself amongst the ratty henna fur that cuffed his new (new being a relative term) orange parka, which left Stan to reply. Honestly speaking, the raven-haired youth was more preoccupied with beating a rather challenging level of Angry Birds on his cell phone than pretending to listen to his so-called friend's ranting. Or maybe this week it was Candy Crush. "What?"

Grinning ear-to-ear like the jackal he was, giddy as a schoolgirl that they - or at least one of them, as in his reality all Cartman really required was just one single person to address his bullshit - were finally paying this new development (and him) the proper attention, the cruel butterball pointed at the red house nearest the sign post, although now it was no longer the same hue as a cherry. Not the first family to move in since the boys had been in fourth grade, the house had gone from looking like a strawberry to transmuting into a pale, sherbety orange to a dreamy "hippie" purple, going back to candy apple red, then to a picturesque white, followed by a drab russet, and now it was a blue that leaned closer to teal on the color wheel. "There's a new family in town!"

As if none of them could see the lumbering Move N' Store truck parked in the front lawn, or see the 'for sale' sign that had been taken from the lot but left to rest against the side of the newly-painted walls. Nondescript silver and tagged 'DddyLaw1', the never-before-seen compact hybrid that was parked in front of the garage was also a dead give away. The self-described heart-breaker also noted the fact that there were still boxes in front of and behind the windows. "So what dude?"

"Yeah dude, we've had people move in and out of town before, so who cares?" Having observed the progress of the move but having yet to actually meet the entire family for himself, Stan sounded as psyched about finding out what the new neighbors might be like as he was for getting a tooth pulled. It was no more than how many fucks Kenny gave. Kyle, on the other hand, didn't really seem to have a response either way, which made the pessimistic raven and platinum lech alike curious. Still though, what the fuck was the big deal?

Only somewhat abashed by the lack of enthusiasm put forth at this news, Cartman pressed on. "Because, Kahl," ignoring the fact that it was Stan being his usual bleak self, fat-ass practically beamed at the glare that earned him from the Jinger Jersey Jew, "I had Butters watching the house ever since that sign went up." Gullible and diligent in his efforts, it was more than easy to envision the blonde stalking the property with a set of gigantic binoculars and a walkie-talkie or journal for keeping records. It was probably both. "Last night my efforts paid off, and he told me that he saw them unpacking a lot of really kewl expensive stuff! I don't know why they'd want to move to this street with all the Jews, conniving poor people, and riff-raff, but this is great for us!" Clearly Cartman took this move to mean more people to exploit, so he had it in his mind that this was the best news they must have had all day.

Irked by Cartman already working on several possible ways to worm his way into the good graces of the new neighbors - seriously, they could all hear the oily cogs and grinding gears of Eric's manipulative brain shifting into action - Kyle looked as if he had come to a crossroads. Kenny had no clue what the other boy was thinking, but he could surmise that the first option on his list was to chew Eric out for how he was treating Butters again, yet for the second branch this conversation could have taken... If the redhead wasn't such a bookworm that took more solace in studying than anything else, the party king might have suspected that he had something up his sleeve that even his best friends knew nothing about.

"-DON'T SLAM THE DOOR WHEN I'M TALKIN-" Cut off mid-sentence as the glassy front door of the now blue house shut as quickly as it had been thrown open, the man that was screaming was impossible to see from the angle and distance they stood, but if Kenny had had to guess, he would have pegged a great oblong of a man in the early autumn of his life, the figure more than at home wielding a war hammer in some fantasy world. Despite the fact that it was a few measly yards away, that had to be the case to achieve the earth-shattering sound they heard. Had it not happened to himself on occasion, the teen might have wondered what had cased such a heated argument to happen so early in the morning.

Fiddling with a small hole on the upper thigh of sooty skinny jeans, a neon pink flush giving away that the new kid was wary of one of the four boys bringing up the scene back there, gray-blue eyes remained locked on sturdy leather boots as dark as the ebony pull-over that stole all sense of shape. The army jacket that had been thrown on over that field of smoke didn't really help to distinguish much else.

Tossing a worn messenger bag over one shoulder, the new kid turned to look at the four waiting at the curb for the school bus, daring to look up once they had melded into a mass of five (seven if you counted each of Cartman's asses). Scanning over the jock and the drama-queen in a single precursory glance, the new kid looked somewhat comforted as he beheld a pair of familiar jade eyes and vermilion curls poking from beneath a cozy green hat; nodding at the nerd (as a term of endearment) earth met ice and he gathered what nerve was available to greet the lot. So to speak.

As for the others bringing up what ugliness they had just witnessed, the only one to worry about was Eric Cartman; Cartman was the single most biggest asshole in all of South Park, and that wasn't entirely a dig at his weight. Anyone who knew Kyle knew that he was just too polite to blurt it on the spot in front of a group of people, even if most of said people were his friends, but something told Kenny that it wasn't him that this new boy was worried about. Between his thumbs twiddling over the surface of his cream-colored Samsung Galaxy s6 Edge, if anyone knew firsthand what the embarrassment of parents being jackholes felt like, it was Stan, so it barely even registered a place on his radar. Kenny, who could easily relate to what it was like getting shouted at first thing in the morning, was sadly accustomed to others seeing the worst his family could offer, so for him that kind of send-off was just a natural occurrence. Not to mention it would have been Cartman-levels of hypocritical to shine a light on the new kid, and anyways, the blonde was more attentive to the way that the stranger was eyeing him.

Dazed in a kind of retro 90's movie slo-mo shot that established who the main love interest was, the look on the unnamed kid's face suggested that everything had just stopped. Appearing to see more than just the patches in his worn jeans and the safety pins that held his backpack together, it was as if he saw something more than just a piece of meat behind those dazzling azure eyes, eyes that held such misery and solitude. Unsure if he saw anything or not beyond the stranger's smitten gaze, Kenny himself had already played a majority of the pieces that would play back by this point, so the idea of a fresh face in the love game was one he liked, even if he had the impression that the chase would be boringly cliché. Maybe it would be too easy, maybe the other boy would play the coy little virgin who got second thoughts whenever something exciting was about to happen, or maybe he would even use that 'I've never slept with a boy before' card. That mystery was what made it interesting, even if it was only mildly so.

Aware that he was staring, the new kid quickly looked away, the pink tint returning anew alongside what Kenny assumed was a mental lecture on being weird and gawking. Taking another drag off of his cancer stick, the blonde was curious to know if this state of shyness would last long, or if it was only brought out because of whatever drama he had going on with his old man.

"What the hell is that asshole's problem?" Cartman, unaware of the little thing (if it could even be called such) between Kenny and the newbie, gave the new kid no breathing room once the group swelled to five. Obviously he was calculating and mindful of trying to gauge how useful this new neighbor could prove, but being as obtuse and hateful as he was, Eric underestimated the additional millisecond the fresh blood scoped out the blonde, most probably chalking it up to the faults he himself always laid at Kenny's feet. "He on his period or something?"

In near perfect unison, Stan and Kyle rolled their eyes at the other boy's moronic question - no matter how many times they told him how it worked or how many health classes they took, the most despised boy in town still wouldn't stop insisting that anyone acting moody was menstruating. It was just his thing, and boy did he love to use it on Kyle.

Tone bordering on insolence, voice having an innate rough edge to it, the boy opened his mouth to crack a joke at his father's expense, head tilting sideways to cast some serious shade at the man inside the house, "I thought he stopped rag-mastering it a week ago, but now I'm not so sure." Seriously, whatever was going on between parent and child was enough to earn a great amount of hostility. Shrugging as if to show that he couldn't care less, the boy tucked a strand of cinnamon back beneath a lip-less oversized beanie the color of cement. "He's just a controlling asshole that needs to butt the hell out of my life."

At those words, Kyle and the boy exchanged looks.

 _What did that mean?_ Rolling around in his bed in the dark with only the moon for company, Kenny pondered why the new kid had looked so intently at him in those first few moments if he had something already going with Kyle. The first part of that answer was pretty damned obvious, but Kyle's connection to everything was just too much to fathom. It became apparent rather quickly that the two had already met when the introductions rolled out, so was it so crazy to get the idea that maybe there was more to their relationship than mere friendship? The blonde knew that if he were to ask Kyle, the redhead would probably rebuff the notion, swearing up and down that that was not the case, that anyone who thought otherwise was just falling back into that juvenile answer that boys and girls couldn't be friends without sex entered into the equation. And if he were to ask Hunter...

True, the new kid had ditched out on detention and bailed on whatever plans he might have had in order to hang out with the blue-eyed blonde after school, but at this point Kenny wasn't sold that the pair of them getting drunk with Craig and his gang at Stark's Pond was enough of a bonding experience to say that they were much better than acquaintances. Yes, it was a fact that he learned in the course of that afternoon that when his mom passed away, Hunter had done everything in his power to step up to the plate, but the revelation that really shocked him came when Clyde had dared him out of his clothes and into his underwear.

That... Well it was certainly unexpected, but it didn't really change much else in how Kenny saw Hunter. No, what was really eating at him and convincing him that there was more to the story was the fact that at the end of the day, Hunter had asked about Kyle. It wasn't like he was being a dick and just assuming that no girl could ever be attracted to a bookworm - fuck, nerds got laid too - it was just that the blonde had been under the impression all day that Hunter was into him, not the redhead with the untamed Jew-fro. As a matter of fact, the blonde had labored beneath that belief until he had asked point-blank if he wanted to stay out after the group thinned down, and the other boy had told him it was getting late, that he had to go home to make dinner for the family. It made sense to Kenny given the way he had come to understand the family dynamic, so he didn't question it, and honestly he was kind of glad that that was the other's answer. Confusing as the signals were thus far, it would be boring if Kenny didn't have to put some work into wooing Hunter. And then, just when he thought things were shaping up, Hunter asked him how Kyle liked his burgers. What the fuck had that been about?!

* * *

 **Author's Note** :

Hello all! As some of you may or may not be aware, this story is a reboot of my original South Park story "Just Another One of the Boys". No, I did not finish that story, nor do I think that I will. Honesty I got really stuck with it, and between time and just general steady improvement to the craft, it was just impossible for me to go on with it. This one will take heavy inspiration and story elements from that fic, but if you have read it, please try not to confuse the two. For example I stuck with a similar mold for Hunter, but unlike in the original story where the hair is black, it is now red. It may seem a pointless change, but frankly I feel as if too many of my characters have the same color hair, so I opted to tweak with Hunny's general appearance a bit. Also, there is another notable difference, but I don't want to spoil it.

Oh, and for reference, I'm pretty much using the map from the Stick of Truth as cannon of where everything is.

Reviews would be the best possible thing I could hope to get, but if anyone has any comments or questions, feel more than free to ask me! I'm more than happy to answer your PMs. I try to get to my reviews asap, and in the following chapter I will thank you for taking the time, so if you don't want that, just tell me. I enjoy keeping an active conversation going with you guys :)

 ***Update 12/22/16***

Interest rejuvenated, I looked back at this and realized there was some room for improvement. Pretty simple stuff, so the outline is unchanged.

The only thing I can claim is the Bloodworth family, the rest belongs to Trey Parker and Matt Stone or whoever.


	2. Just Give Me A Reason

Basically it all began a few months back, when Kyle asked if he could work around his dad's office for some extra spending money. As if on cue, an overworked Gerald came back and informed his son that that would be impossible, because the firm had already hired someone professionally, the new employee slithering in and introduced himself as Robert Bloodworth not five seconds later. Nutmeg and cinnamon, his hair was a nest of closely cropped bristles, the severe point of the Widow's Peak receding and peppered with silver that may or may not have been premature. Blessed with a strong jaw but cursed with a weak chin, his high cheeks were hollow as the rest of him, hazel eyes dead in heavily lidded sockets. Aside from the tweed suit, the main thing that stuck out at the bibliophile was the woman's wedding ring he wore on a sturdy gold chain about his neck, the metal glinting atop a plain sea-foam green tie. Kyle was no fashion critic, but even he could tell that that man needed help picking out something that wasn't vomit-worthy. #TweedSucks

Arms laden with a beaten leather briefcase that just oozed character and a faintly muggy scent that evoked the image of a damp taco, additional files spewing over manila equally subjugated, just behind Robert trailed a reluctant teen Kyle's own age that had been introduced as Hunter. Minus the bulky pullover and beanie that would later come to identify the youth, the boy's look was slightly more streamlined, the army jacket fastened over acid-washed jeans and leggings made to look like old newspaper clippings with scuffed-up sneakers. Frowning and looking downright harassed from assisting in smoothing out the transitions to come, the boy had his coppery side-swept hair tied back in a very messy man bun.

In comparison to the way that Hunter was dressed, Kyle had donned his trademark hat that had made him an icon, matching it with a clean windbreaker not unlike the one he wore as a kid, only now he had a set of his very own car keys jangling in the pants pocket of his steely gray dickies. Laced tight, his mud-brown boots were as plain and simple (not to mention as clean looking) as they were when he pulled them from the box. He wouldn't really know what to call his style - again, he wasn't anywhere close to being the douchcebag fashion police - but he supposed that by name and technical description, it wasn't too far off from the label of "earthy and chill". Although considering the fact that he was wearing a tie underneath his coat, "chill" probably became a unapplicable description.

Exchanging all the formal pleasantries while underneath the scrutiny of their fathers, the teens kept it civil; actually, being such well-behaved kids, the two remained cordial even after they had been left to it, their dads scurrying off to get cracking on all of the important work they had to do. Not very inclined to believe that there was any serious matters that were vitally urgent at the time, young Broflovski didn't particularly care as he had been denied the job he sought, and the even younger Bloodworth was just grateful for the reprieve. Apparently he had spent a good amount of time being his dad's pack mule.

Ever the pageboy and errand master for his kin, Hunter, being tasked with bringing blueprints and messages back and forth from the renovation site that would be his home and having some spare time to kill in the meanwhile, wasted little time in asking about the town. What was it like, did the temperature ever change, that kind of thing. Kyle, now that he had been denied his request and was back to square freaking one in the job hunt, theoretically had plenty of free time to entertain. If he chose to, and from his first impression of Hunter, it wouldn't have been a very enjoyable experience. And then the other teen had just happened to decide at that very moment to remove his coat to adjust to the heat in the office, and all at once the bookworm's misgivings melted away in three simple words: Foster the People. Kyle was a big fan of Mark Foster's stuff, so for the sake of a mutual appreciation of a killer band, the redhead figured he could find it in himself to play host for the stranger.

And thus ignited a bond between the pair of carrot-tops. Sharing a number of things in common from the get-go, such as red hair (though Kyle's was considerably darker while Hunter's was more manageable (so suck on that Merida)), Foster the People, and they both would be in some of the same AP classes, the word 'friend', being so vague and encompassing, was perfect in some ways and less so in others. Well, once the paperwork all transfered over and Hunter was enrolled in the school they'd be in some of the same AP classes, but it was only a matter of time. Although having said that, there other things that they didn't immediately see eye-to-eye on either, like Kyle being more of an X-Box kind of guy (he at least acknowledged that the PlayStation had its merits, whereas the new kid was unyielding), Hunter listening more to rock and metal (though he had admitted that he would listen to just about anything), and despite being in advanced classes, the other boy was more interested in art than academics. Art was fine, Kyle truly did appreciate the creativity that went into the pieces that now lined a portion of his bedroom wall, but to actually consider a future in it was just ludicrous in this economy.

"Well it's not really my first goal, more just something for me to fall back on," seated in the back at Tweak Bros. while on a 'mandatory' coffee run for the office, Hunter confided in the older male, "its more just a third resort, in case I can't make the cut for the pro team and the cooking falls through. That shit's more competitive than anything else I've seen." Apparently a sporty sort, much like Stan and Clyde Donovan, the lack of a jacket revealed that the boy's stalk was a bit too stocky for playing basketball, which was yet another passion they shared. Looking at the meat on Hunter's bones, the cooking made a world of sense though.

Being the sort who could burn water just by looking at it, Kyle wouldn't really know anything about the cutthroat world of cutlery, so he just sipped politely at his own scalding hot beverage. At least in comics and animation, where the artistic vision lay, Hunter might have had a better chance than most other areas of art, but the lawyer's son wouldn't hold his breath on it providing a comfortable future. Despite laughing so loudly that a couple sitting at the next table looked back at him - their faces scandalized as if he had just pulled out an atomic ton of plutonium and fused it with uranium - he didn't change his mind after the other teen had sketched out a comic on the back of a napkin for him. The jokes were funny enough and the animation wasn't too crappy, but the field was just too aggressive and too full, as Hunter had put it when he was talking about the prospect of becoming a professional chef.

Lapsing into a thoughtful silence, Hunter gazed around the store and "enjoyed" his mug of creamy black, more than prepared to add to a growing tab if need be. It was terrible and would certainly take some getting used to the heavy piss-like taste - this would be what he'd be drinking now after all, so best just grin and bear it - but it was bracing in the unfamiliar sting of the mountains and gave a legitimate reason to take a break. As a matter of fact, not many townsfolk really liked the taste per say, but this was the best place in all of South Park, and there just seemed to be something in the brew that kept the costumers coming back.

"Gah!" Jittery and trembling from head-to-toe, though not quite as bad as it used to be when they were still kids in elementary school, Tweek Tweak came up to the table on his way back into the store room to make sure they had everything they would need. "Ho-how was it?" His eye twitched, but Kyle paid it no mind, so Hunter tried to follow suit and not stare.

Friendly, Kyle smiled kindly at the one member of Craig's gang that he was still on sociable terms with. It wasn't that he hated any of them in particular, nor them him so far as he knew, it was just that their spheres didn't blend much outside of the rare party or town oddity anymore. "It was good dude. So," asking more out of manners than any real interest, the redhead thought he'd ask about Craig and the rest of those guys, "how's the band?" In middle school, somewhere near the end, neither could recall exactly, Craig and his friends had thought it would be a cool thing to try to make their own band (which Cartman insisted was them ripping their own group off), but they hadn't really done much in the way of creating music outside of one song entitled ' _The Bird_ '. Three guesses what it was about.

Flinching as if he had just been hit, in dire need of another dose of the medicine kept in the employee-only room, the blonde shook his head so that a shock of lemony yellow hair - not quite the same length it had been as a kid, it was now about a tenth of a centimeter shorter if Kyle had to guess - fell across serene eyes of a pale sage green, "Clyde's going to that big out-of-state game with the rest of the team." Naturally, as Kyle knew from Stan that the entire football team would be going away for the weekend. "Token's going away this weekend to visit with some family. He l-left," that spasm was intense enough to cause a stutter that didn't exist otherwise, "last night. Craig should be here soon for his shift." Nearly shut down a few years back for only having one employee per so many costumers, Tweek's parents (the owners and operators of Tweak Bros. Coffee) had hired their son's best friend to keep inspectors and investors happy and off their backs. "Wh-what about you?" Not for the first time since coming over, Tweek peered over at Hunter. "Are you on a date?"

Mortified enough to really show off some serious whites of the eye, had either of them been drinking or eating at that moment, it would have spewed out over the homey white counter top or else choked them respectively. Sure, both of the seated teens looked between the other and blonde, each acknowledging the fact that there was tremendous potential for a friendship that could have lasted until college at the very least (so pretty much for two years), but anything more than that was just... Nasty. Shuddering on the inside but sitting for a real-time sculpture on the out, neither of them felt anything remotely close to a romantic inclination. _Urgh, sick!_ Seriously, Tweek might as well have asked if they had even the faintest notion of incest. _Bluh!_

"No." Simple, sweet, and to the point, they both were quick to verbally dismiss the notion.

Pulling out a twenty from a Batman-themed wallet to pay for their drinks, handing it to Tweek for another round (partially just to get him the hell out of there so the noxious idea didn't have time to gestate), the not-yet-resident glanced sideways at his companion in genuine curiosity, sucking almost absentmindedly at the inside of his snake bites. _Hopefully that didn't taint the mood too much_. "What about you Kyle, what do you want to do after you graduate?"

As of middle school, the young Jew had been working quite diligently towards one thing, and each and every one of his peers knew that ultimate goal, so he saw no point in hiding it from the soon-to-be new kid, especially as they were in the midst of that whole 'getting to know you so I know if you could be a real friend, or just a school friend I see on occasion' phase. "What I want to be, more than anything, is a biologist. At first I thought that I might want to be a doctor, especially after seeing the statistics that say that no one wants to enter that practice, but that field just seems so restricted, but as a biologist, there's still so much I can discover, so much I can help others to learn."

That answer might have taken Hunter aback at first, but after the hour or so they had been talking, it made a lot of sense. "That's really cool!" Earnest in his exclamation, Hunter was deeply impressed by that ambition. "I never really met anyone before who wanted to be a scientist. Not after the fourth grade at any rate. Too much math involved, I guess. I'm actually not that too into science or math myself," which was highly ironic, given that the first AP class he had achieved was chemistry, "but it's good to see that there are people keeping the subject alive."

Raising an inquiring carmine brow at that remark, the left going slightly higher than the right but not enough to say that he was capable of lifting only one eyebrow at a time, the analytic bookworm was in some measure under the impression that Hunter was just fucking with him and trying to pull his leg. _Fuck dude_ , he thought bitterly to himself, _I must be spending too much time with Cartman_. Well it wasn't exactly like he had much of a choice when Stan was busy with football season and Kenny was off God-knows where, doing Christ knows what. "Yeah dude," he continued to explain his thought-out vision for the next five years, "I'm not really sure which college I want to go to yet, so I plan on applying to a few of them next year, when I'm able. Around my sophomore year, I intend to leave the student housing and rent my own place so I can focus on the social experiences college has to offer, although depending on how soon I'm able to get comfortable with the classwork and expectations to come, I might alter that timetable." As for renting his own apartment and bailing on the dorms, that was solely because he did not savor the idea of someone else in the room with him while he was trying to have sex, nor did he care very much about the prospect of some drunken frat boy using their sleeping quarters to bring back promiscuous partner after promiscuous partner. And as for not accelerating the application progress, somehow, no matter how many good grades he got, the random disasters in town had always kept him too busy to focus on graduating early. Plus, he hated to admit to himself, there was another reason he lingered in the proper cohort...

College. Now that was a bit of a hiccup for Hunter. "Wow, you really sound as if you have it all planed out." Honestly somewhat envious of the fact that the other boy had a rough map to work with when he himself was just outside of the conceptual stages, Hunter wasn't anywhere further in his own future than knowing what it was that he wanted to do with the rest of his life. "I was actually having this same talk with my little brother before he went to stay with our aunt while we get everything in order." Certain that it was to impress the other boy so he didn't sound like a completely unprepared idiot for not having a real clue, the boy with the bun said the first thing he could think of to distract Kyle from the real topic at hand. "The little bastard actually said to me, and I quote, "You wouldn't know life if it bit you on the twat. You are the very definition of vanilla, and you will die a shriveled old maid, never knowing what it was like to take the bull by the horns, mount the fucker, and ride that big old dick like there's no tomorrow." Little goth cunt went on to tell me that my piercings were all an act of rebellion, that they were never for me. He told me that once I did one thing for myself, only then could I say that I have truly lived." Still privately seething over the off-hand comment, maybe he also told Kyle that to seek validation and comfort that Avery was wrong, that he was just being a difficult little prick when they had had that conversation at dinner.

Sensing that even though Hunter was speaking ill of his little brother at the moment, there was a lot of love there, much like he himself had for Ike. "Did you stop to think that maybe he's right? I mean what was the last thing you did for yourself?" Having sat in that coffee shop now for a good seventy, eighty minutes at that point, Kyle had gotten a fairly descent perception of the new kid, and what he saw was a person that had spent most of his time serving others, rebelling only for the sake of rebelling (which little Avery had confirmed, not even being present in the city limits).

Either way, Kyle had hit the nail dead-on. Hunter never did do anything for himself because he was too busy running the household and playing mom to his younger brother to even think about it, but now that Avery was getting old enough to start making his own decisions, it was time to start letting go so he could look ahead at his own miserable speck of a life. Seriously, what the fuck had he done for himself? The piercings were all an act of malice to spite his father after they got into a huge fight, each and every one of them, and when he had dyed his hair black and went all scene for a minute, that was on a childish and ill-conceived dare, so what was for him? The answer was as pure as it was bleak: nothing.

And then Hunter saw Kenny McCormick for the first time at that snowy bus stop on his first day of school, and he knew that it was time to change that.

* * *

 **Author's Note** :

Please review!

 ***Update 12/22/16***

Again, pretty much just little alterations, nothing major... Unless you count removing an entire section. And the Author's notes, but be honest, who here even reads that part?

The only thing I can claim is the Bloodworth family, the rest belongs to Trey Parker and Matt Stone or whoever.


	3. Shriveled

Shriveled up to microscopic proportions, the miniature pink chunks kidneys stricken jet with cancer and/or decay, the eraser shavings on the half-finished worksheet shifted and rolled suddenly as the nub of the pencil swept across yet another stupid idea, rubbing it from existence. When the spark had first come to greet the swift-footed muses, those last few lines sounded like a logical occurrence in his head, but once the teen had written it out and read it back, it just sounded retarded. Actually, it sounded like something Clyde would pitch when he actually went to his friends for ideas. _Damn_. Forcing the butt down, it was now beginning to leave a smudge  and make a faint scratching noise as it scurried and shuffled over a 't' that had been crossed too soon. _Oh, for fuck's sake!_ Starting the period out with a decent amount of room for correcting, now the #2 was quite bald, one part of the metal that held the eraser to the wood touching the paper, if one were to hold it a certain way. And Craig Tucker, if nothing else could be said of his academic habits, was rather particular about the way he held his writing utensils in his hand.

Setting the pencil aside, the raven-haired boy reread his draft, glossing over the mistakes and dead-end stubs that had been crossed out or erased entirely.

 _Set in the early 1800s, someplace in the southwest where it was sunny and once upon a time, Mexico, there was a man. A farmer, maybe, and he was just tending his cattle or whatever, when a stranger in a dark cloak came to collapse not too far away. When the farmer finds the stranger, he dies, and the landowner buries him with the rest of his deceased live stock. That night, when the farmer is laying in bed, there would be a storm, and in the window, standing there covered in the soil and blood from one of the other dead animals, was the stranger..._

It was just a start, but it wasn't too horrible.

Due to his build from years of playing on the football team, Clyde, also being the complete fucking drama queen and camera-whore that he was, would be perfect for the lead - that was if Mr. Turner liked it enough to OK the project for production - and Token could bring something special to the role of the stranger, if he agreed to do it. Burly Clyde Donovan had always volunteered to help even before he knew what he would be getting himself into, but healthy, averaged sized Token was more selective about what he did, and Craig never did take his participation for granted the way he did with the taco fanatic. Twiggy Tweek might agree to appear on screen too, but his comfort zone was easily behind the set helping Craig out as much as he could. They may have just been for fun or else for AV, but the videos they made were pretty decent for amateur students. Not that Craig would ever admit that out loud.

"Umm, Craig?" Timid as Tweek was around strangers or people that made him especially nervous (like Cartman, who would bully any and everyone when given the chance), a voice he couldn't immediately place cut through his concentration and brought him smack back to the present. "Ms. Yelch told me that I have to partner with you for the assignment."

Already finished with the weekly packet they had been given on Monday, Craig slowly tore his eyes from the script he was still conceptualizing and glared up at the person that had dared to interrupt him. Or we would have been glaring, were the act of leering not a show of emotion.

Standing there awkwardly for a moment before moving to join him at the desk, no doubt embarrassed by yesterday's strip-show at Stark's Pond now that she was sober, the new girl set the astronomy book down on the table between them, using it more as a barrier than a source of information that they had to share if they wanted to get graded for... For...? Not really paying attention after the imbecile of a teacher informed them that they would be entering the brainstorming stages of what the groups would be doing for the quarter project, Craig had drifted off to think of his next student film.

What did he need to listen to that prune's redundant instructions for when he could just read the parameters off the charts she had handed out at the start of nearly every class? Were it not for brainiacs like Kyle Broflovski and that stuck-up snob Wendy Testaburger (Craig hardly ever spoke to Wendy, but he surely couldn't be far off the mark if little Miss Perfect Causes was still associating with the asshole that was also the captain of the football team), he might have wondered if it was remotely possible that he was the only one smart enough to even look at the guidelines. Either that or everyone was just that underestimated and/or lazy. Knowing the citizens of South Park, it was probably a miserable combination of all those choices.

Astronomy being one of his favorite subjects for as long as he could remember, there were not enough words to convey just how disillusioned he was after the first class had ended, everything that that old bat had spewed a watered-down version of what he had learned as a child. If there was any silver-lining to be found in the situation, it might be that since he pretty much already knew the entire syllabus, the class was hardly much of an effort for him. As a matter of fact, even as the lone man out that had been left to either do it himself or temporarily work with another team, he could afford to put in minimal effort and still sparkle and shine by her pathetic standards. Although that was back when there were still an odd-number of students.

Assigned alphabetically in most classes, Tweek Tweak was usually Craig's partner. That worked great for the tallest kid in the grade, as the spazzy blonde was his best friend and they understood how to work together seamlessly, but out of all the situations that organized by surname, astronomy happened to be the one period that they didn't share. Had Jimmy Valmer not moved to Denver a few years back, then that would have made them 'study buddies' (cue the shiver), yet since he was no longer a viable option, that left the Tucker boy largely to his own devices when he wasn't randomly added to this group of two or that for the bigger presentations. However, now that there was another student to bluster the ranks, the chullo-wearing teen caught on to the situation and realized almost numbly that he'd be paired up with the new girl for all remaining assignments. By all rights she should have been paired with Token, Broflovski, or Cartman (he didn't care to put much thought into it), but then that would require almost everyone to shuffle the familiar system, so apparently it was just easier to throw them together.

Hand disappearing into the messenger bag at her side, Hunter began to shuffle through the contents for a pencil and probably some paper so they could get to work, completely unaware that he was watching her from the corner of his steely gray eyes. Before she had even come to school yesterday, Craig had actually seen her a few times over the last month or so when he was at work at Tweak Bros., her constant companion always Broflovski. Despite them denying that they were on a date, the two redheads were always together, no one else in their continued presence (not counting the time that the pair lingered until closing time, inviting both Tweek and himself to join them for a final cup). Observing them as they spoke and drank, it really would have seemed likely that there was an attraction, but then Hunter had met McCormick, and those eyes were only for the blonde from that point on. And then came Clyde's stupid dare.

 _"_ _I triple dog dare you to strip down to your underwear and stand on the ice for a whole minute."_

 _Just that straightforward and simple the dare didn't seem too bad, and besides the couple of drinks that they had shared by that point had began to encase all their bodies in a warm kind of numbness,_ _so Hunter accepted the challenge to see for himself why they named it Stark's Pond._ _He actually agreed, despite having the air of a kid that_ _would have never dared to dream of bailing on detention, and_ _flashing a face that recognized _t__ _he gelid temperature and snow was bound to end the stunt with a flu. Juvenile as it was,_ _logic told him that he had to do it if he wanted the guys to accept him as one of their own. He wasn't wrong to think that._

 _Clearly hoping that none of them were cruel enough to steal his clothes from him while he was performing (Craig could tell that Kenny totally was planning on it ever since Hunter agreed to Clyde's dumb-ass challenge), the new guy started with his beanie. Working fast to beat the elements, the new kid striped layer by layer and set his things on one of the benches that surrounded the water's edge, not stopping until he was down to a pair of horrifically mismatched knee-high socks, a pair of solid ebony boxer briefs, and a simple white bra._

 _Barely October, the chilly fingers of winter crept up to fondle the newly exposed flesh of the new kid - er, make that the new girl - invisible hands of the final terrible season trailing goose-prickles in their clammy wake. All Kenny saw when he watched Hunter stalk over to the impromptu ice skating rink was what was going on with the A-cup underneath that bra, the cold doing it's work to kill imagination. Craig, who was by far the most practical of his friends, saw bravery turn into stupidity as she slid to and fro in her socks, one good gust of wind away from falling over and freezing half to death. The other three, truth be told, were still trying to register the mind-fuck of Hunter being a girl, as opposed to focusing on the dare anymore. Hunter herself was too busy thinking about surviving for a full sixty minutes, the determined set of her broad, androgynous face betraying no hints of concern that they discovered her true birth gender. Apparently it wasn't like it was much of a secret in her mind._

 _"Did you know that Hunter was a chick?" Craig asked Kenny as the boys witnessed the pink flush of liquor bleeding into where the wind whipped around wisps of rubicund wine, her eyes closing tight to keep the soft flurry of snowflakes from entering, the powder catching on her lashes. Ever since elementary school the girls and boys had remained within their own cliques, so it was almost unheard of for one of their feminine gender to be hanging around them and all of their masculinity. As if he had heard what the stoic raven was thinking, Clyde began to tear up in his confusion and Token moved to do what he could to comfort him (usually it involved the promise of a taco, but something told the leader that this time it might take something more than that)._ _Well so to speak_.

 _Shaking his dirty blonde mop, the boy that had brought her along was more curious than ever before to see what was beneath those boxers. "It doesn' change anythin'." Perhaps one of the blonde's closest friends, Craig didn't need to ask Kenny what he meant by that. Besides, even if he did, the other boy knew that he wouldn't get a sincere answer._

 _Shivering from the cold, they could all hear Hunter's teeth chattering from the far side of the bank, but there was still about thirty more seconds to go; Token was curious to see if the girl could really do it, and Tweek was freaking out on the sidelines, shouting that she'd catch a cold or else somehow she'd get stuck out there and freeze to death. Clyde was watching with a wide mouth in the shape of an 'O', still partially in shock that Hunter was a female. Though he wasn't saying anything, Craig could tell from the way his brows furrowed that the other half of the brunette was feeling guilty for any suffering the girl inflicted on herself for the duration of her ice-scapades. He himself knew that the entire thing was stupid, but at the same time he couldn't bring himself to look away. Kenny, ever the valiant soul when there was something to be gained from it (at least that's how Craig saw it), was halfway through removing his parka when Craig looked back over at him._

 _"Really?" Not much of a one for questions, the raven-hair boy rolled his eyes at the obvious move, supposing that Kenny would either go without or just trade jackets for the time being._

 _Kenny played innocent as he removed the parka and held out the cheap fur-lined warmth to wrap around the girl once she came back, "What? It wouldn' look good if the new kid showed up as a Popsicle for class tomorrow. If I warm her up now, then everyone wins." Cue that cheesy grin of the blonde's that seemed to be a magnet for panties, or rather the gateway drug of sex as Clyde's challenge had already done wonders in that department. For whatever reason, that annoyed Craig more than it usually would have._

"Just so you know, I'm not usually that... free-spirited." Struggling to find the right word for a moment, Hunter looked at Craig from across the table as everyone else around them began to focus more on the day's gossip than the actual assignment. Moving his eyes back to his unfinished script, Craig shrugged Hunter off, not giving two fucks about what happened back at the watering hole, but for whatever reason she didn't seem to get the hint and kept talking as if she felt she owed him an explanation. "I'm just not much of a drinker, and a part of me was just to impress everyone, so I didn't really think-"

"I don't care." Classic Craig, cutting across an epic of a narrative he could care less about.

Stunned yet suspicious, the new kid looked troubled by Craig's words, as if she couldn't believe that someone really didn't have an opinion about witnessing such a lowbrow lack-wit display. "Oh." Lapsing into silence for a brief moment, Craig might have dared to hope that that would be the end of it, had he lived in any other town. "I mean it's not as if got completely naked in front of you all, but I want to say that I think I might have really upset Tweek with my actions. I tried to apologize to him today on the bus, and after homeroom, but he darted off before I could get the chance." He might have told her once more that he really didn't give a shit, but the noirette was caught off guard by the fact that she was genuinely attempting to apologize. "I already said I was sorry to Token and Clyde, and I thought about asking one of them to pass my regrets to Tweek, but I thought it would be best if I asked you first, since you're his best friend."

Weary of trickery or some other exploit, Craig nodded and agreed to pass the message on when he got the chance. Hopefully this time the new blood in the school wasn't nearly half as chaotic or moronic as Broflovski and his dipshit friends (McCormick included), although by this point in his life it seemed too much to ask for in this town. South Park was just a magnet for the crazy and insane, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

Speaking of those guys, the copper-haired tomboy turned just enough in her seat to see McCormick a few tables over, flirting with Patty Nelson more than they were actually working, Kyle and Token diligently outlining and arranging their responsibilities just behind them. Her eyes fell back down to the desk to look back over at the rules for the assignment, but it was plain as day that it bothered her to see him hitting on another girl when it had been her just yesterday. In spite of himself, Craig wondered if the blonde had already 'scored' with the new girl and was back on the prowl for the next objective. Considering the way that she had taken it on herself to make amends for her behavior (which in this city was by no means horrible), it was either that or she had said something to bother McCormick enough to make him back off.

Either way, it wasn't his place to get involved. "So what were you thinking for the project?"

Not once removing her eyes from the other group since Patty laughed at something McCormick said, Bloodworth shook her head so that the messy strands dangling from her bun tickled the back of her neck, "She has a stupid laugh." Feeling the weight of Craig's honest-to-God glare, the girl glanced at her partner, the part of her not seething in the lime-green jelly bath ashamed that she wasn't living up to the report cards on the fridge back home (for whatever reason, Craig totally pictured the girl to have one of those kinds of displays in her house). "Right, sorry. I know it's the most cliché thing ever, but why not a model of the solar system? If you're not busy with another piece, we could even use art to coordinate and get the thing done that much faster. If we get the chance, we could even use homeroom."

 _At least she heard me_. Personally he didn't give a rat's ass about Hunter and whatever problems she was having with McCormick (fleeting curiosity aside), but now that he had a partner for the class project, a partner that he had never worked with before who held the power to make or break his grade, he cared enough to listen. And it wasn't that bad of a suggestion. Homeroom didn't count as a class, and even if it did it was purely independent study, and art rarely ever did group efforts, so that would mean that they would have three hours every day, and if they were to take it home after school then they might even be able to finish the physical model by the end of next week, depending on how big they scaled it. No, it really wasn't that bad of a suggestion at all. Not that he'd acknowledge it out loud without sound proof for support.

"Let me see your phone." Holding out his hand for the device, she handed it over hesitantly. It wasn't that new a model, but it wasn't that old either, the slender frame encased in a deep violet with zigzagging cyan accents; there were a few charms hanging from a sturdy strap of supple brown leather, the most notable of them being the Batman logo and a plastic daisy. Brushing his thumb to the main screen, Craig was taken aback to see the most adorable guinea pig as the background. Entering his number, he explained, "This is only so we can talk about the project. I don't have work today, so we should get together after school." Hoping that the intent of the invite was obvious, he glanced back over at where McCormick was making quite the show of impressing Patty Nelson, "Unless you have more important things to do."

Boring a final hole through the back of McCormick's head, Hunter shook her head. After that they spent the rest of the period talking about who would do what, what they personally wanted to cover in the accompanying essay, and they even decided on going with a scale that was large enough to show detail from a distance, but not so large that they'd have to 'take seven hundred years on it'. Craig decided by the end of class that as far as partners went, Hunter Bloodworth wasn't the absolute worst. They worked well together - he was quiet and only said so much, and being an AP student she was intelligent enough to fill in a number of the gaps and come up with good ideas of her own, so there wasn't too much wasted time. That was good, because it was obvious that they would both rather be elsewhere.

* * *

 **Author's Note** :

Or you know, just anyone reading this would be nice. For those of you angels that actually are reading this story, do you think I did Craig alright? I really worry extra hardcore about getting the characters right.

 ***Update 12/22/16***

Basically I just moved the section removed from the previous chapter and put it in Craig's flashback.


	4. Being Mundane Makes Craig Sooo Happy

Seated at the accustomed table in the cafeteria where he frequently sat, the already overflowing trash cans a few feet away and eking a semi-noxious gas that was strongly reminiscent of how the boy's bathroom smelled after Cartman passed through, the double doors close by and thrown open to tempt in the final shuddering summer breaths before autumn, Craig Tucker was joined by his friends. Olive green button-down still not fastened properly, a black tee-shirt with the Tweak Bros. logo beneath, Tweek was perched on one side while a "dashing figure" in the red lettermen jacket would have taken the other, where he not with the rest of his team. Token, hair tied back and reading glasses perched atop his nose in the interest of maintaining his healthy vision into the distant future, might also have welcomed Clyde's presence at his left - or even the right - lateral if he were with them today. Nice and boring, just the way Craig liked it.

And yet there was some bullshit brewing.

Across from the two besties, Token was surrounded by his usual mountain of brand new text books as he used the extra time to touch up an essay that was due later or cram for a test that they had coming up, his lunch neatly nibbled on as he studied. Today he was dinning on some exotic salad with fish and beets, a fancy foreign lemonade imported from Christ knows where, and a single oatmeal cookie. Tweek was sipping his coffee and munching on some celery sticks and carrots that he had packed himself, spending his break reading the messages and mail he couldn't get to while in class. Gawking across the moderate expanse of the cafeteria from where he sat with the rest of his team, Clyde was frowning at his real friends between hearty bites of his face-staining sloppy-Joe. Craig didn't like the way that the brunette was looking to him for answers, probably attempting to form some kind of direct telepathic channel while he was at it, and he liked even less that the team seemed to be running their mouths about the most recent batches of chatter.

Did you hear? No, what? Craig Tucker gave the new kid his digits! Did you hear Craig Tucker gave the new kid his contact information? Did you hear that Craig Tucker gave his cell number and a dime bag to the new kid? No, I heard it was a baggie of shrooms! I heard from Mike who heard it from Annie who overheard Kevin talking to Scott when they were ditching gym to watch the new Star Wars trailer in the AV room that it was crystal. Do you think it's true that Craig Tucker gave the new kid his number and some E in exchange for a blowjob? No way, I always thought Craig had more class than that! I heard that Craig Tucker and the new kid exchanged digits, as in an index right up the brown eye! Did you hear that the new kid is already hooking up with Craig Tucker? What a slut! No way, I heard that the new kid was hooking up with Craig AND the entire football team, having nasty butt-sex in the school showers! That was how the rumor mill worked, and after Bebe personally saw Craig giving the new kid his phone number in the middle of class and told Wendy and the other cheerleaders about it, the unstoppable machine was whirring heatedly passed overtime by lunch. Thankfully the student body were still collectively laboring under the assumption that the new kid was a boy, or else the rumors probably would have been even worse by then.

"Gah!" Throwing his battered old brick-of-a-phone back to the chipped, silvery tabletop with a loud, metallic clink as if it had tried to bite him, the blonde stared at Craig as if he thought that the raven-haired male would suddenly snap and go berserk, which was completely unCraig-like. That wasn't a particularly new reaction by any means, but this time Tucker had the sneaking suspicion that he knew exactly what had set his excitable friend off. "Y-you're sl-sleeping with Hunter?!" Twitching uncontrollably at the idea, his right eye seemed to have found a rhythm all its own. "I th-thought that -Ah!- Kenny liked Hun-Hunter, man!" He screwed up his face and thought more about what he knew of their relationship, not quite as scarred since Hunter's apology had been passed on. "She kept staring at h-him in class," the class in question being government/economics, which the entire gang had together, "they were even texting all period!" Craig could easily believe that the two would be doing everything but their work after just sitting with them through astronomy, especially the new girl, but from where he was standing there was no proof that they were actually texting each other. Although in hindsight he had been in front of McCormick and the new kid, so he he couldn't possibly have seen any of that with turning around. "I saw them smiling at each other as they l-left the classroom! Gah, I'm so confused man!" _Good,_ the wearer of blue chullos and stopper of giant pirate guinea pigs thought _, maybe if they hook up that will make it so she's not too distracted after school when we work on the project. Yeah,_ he thought as he scarfed the rest of his own meal, and _maybe them getting together would have exactly the opposite effect._

First things first, Craig calmed his blonde down before he could even address the new kid and the other blonde that they sometimes hung out with, taking deep breaths and encouraging Tweek to follow suit before he could go completely overboard. "It's ok Tweekers, just relax." Mostly just ok when he did it, Craig thought of the jitter factory as if we were Stripe, placing his hand over his friend's in a comforting fashion, which he had discovered long ago seemed key in easing the anxieties of both man and beast.

Fidgeting as he collected his breath to exhale in a peaceful - admittedly somewhat rough and patchy - manner, the blonde nodded at his anchor. "O-ok." Like Stripe, Tweek had what could only be described as a cute nose twitch that only revealed itself after a meltdown.

"Bebe's just being a stupid cunt again spreading rumors." Even Tweek knew that if Clyde were there he'd try to stand up for the blonde girl and insist that she just told her friends something she didn't see properly or misunderstood the context of, that it was the other girls on the squad who were maliciously coming up with these crazy stories and telling everyone else. "That's just what girls do." Truth be told, the leader of the outfit didn't really hang out with any of the females in the school (anti-social, he barely hung out with anyone outside his circle of friends), and the few times that the brunette had brought the head cheerleader around, she actually did seem like a semi-descent human being. Much like how he viewed Wendy because of her relationship with a douche like Stan Marsh, he deemed Bebe to have some grain of goodness to her, seeing as she had been putting up with dating Clyde all this time.

Token - who was a pretty plugged-in guy in general - knew Craig better than most (excluding Clyde and Tweek, who knew the apathetic teen just as well), so the richest boy in town already knew that there was nothing behind the gossip to back any of it up. "That's right Tweeks, Kenny's our friend, and friends don't go around digitizing each other's girlfriend's while getting a handjob in the middle of class. It goes against the bro-code."

Compelled for a moment to point out that Kenny and Hunter weren't by any means dating the last he knew, the guinea pig enthusiast figured that it wouldn't help Tweek mellow out any, so he kept his mouth shut. "That's right." If his friends had expected him to elaborate further on the lies that were currently circulating, they would be in for bitter disappointment, as Craig was not the kind to prattle on needlessly when his point had already been made. Besides, the chullo-wearing teen was almost positive that if everyone else was seeing what he was seeing as a certain quartet made their way through the eatery to take their usual seats, it should have been more than enough to prove his innocence in the eyes of his peers. Not that he particularly cared what any of them thought about him.

Broflovski endured his fair amount of shit, and McCormick too, but that was just the guys being guys; otherwise, the blonde was pretty much "too cool" for people to touch, just one of those kinds of people that set the trend and determined what was black and what was white for the rest of the idiots, and being the super best friend (cough, butt-buddy, cough) of the captain of the football team, Broflovski's hell was kept to a livable minimum. Craig pretty much avoided all that bullshit as best he could, but he had never really been in a situation where he had to rest on the laurels and prestige of others for protection. So far, since they were visibly in the new kid's corner at the moment and standing at either side like sentinels, that would stave off some of the hearsay. Again, he really didn't care one way or another how that situation all played itself out, but for the sake of their project, he didn't want the new girl to get sucked so far into their shit that she'd become useless as a project partner.

Shrugging it off, Craig returned to his miserable school lunch and thought back to how much he missed what was served in elementary. Some of that was shitty too and nowhere near as good as what you could make at home with the right skill set, but at least there was actual effort put into having a variety of options, as opposed to now. Not that'd he admit it, but lunch was one time when he actually envied Clyde - ok, maybe not so much Clyde but his ability to happily devour whatever was put in front of him. Or maybe Clyde's stomach just knew which menu item to select. Finishing his milk carton in a moody, leering silence, he shoved his tray away and grabbed his backpack to search for the script he had been working on. Even as he grabbed for it, he was wondering if he should ask for some input yet or not.

 _Middle finger up to the sky_  
 _(throw it up)_  
 _In the sky-y-y_  
 _In the sky-y-y_  
 _(throw it up)_  
 _In the sky-y-y-y-y-y_

No longer in class where it was more or less mandatory (the strictness of the rule tended to fluctuate with the amount that the teacher cared) to turn off your phone in class, Craig's incoming text tone chirped to life just as his hand grasped what he had been hunting for, the phone itself vibrating in his pocket. In an unrelated afterthought, maybe it was about time he considered changing the tune. Mmmm, no. This worked and it wasn't getting on his nerves yet, so there was no need to bother.

Guarded more jealously than Fort Knox, Craig's number was a rarity that a few select people had been granted, so the teen had to seriously question who the fuck was calling him. Tweek and Token were right there at the table with him so that would have just been stupid, and speaking of dumb things, Clyde was now throughly engrossed in whatever "humor" the jocks could muster up, so that only left McCormick (who he had to block like every other day), someone in his immediate family, Kevin Stoley, and the new kid. Thomas and Laura never seemed bothered enough to call their son and he returned the favor by never dialing their number, and his sister rarely even bothered with him when he was at home, so he was pretty sure that it wasn't any of them. Stoley would be in the computer lab right about now, so theoretically it could have been him as he was usually too absorbed into whatever it was he got up to, so it was highly unlikely he was the culprit. By process of elimination, that really only left McCormick and the new kid; McCormick would call just to piss him off because he found that kind of thing to be funny, but the new girl had painted a slightly more respectful image, so he was fairly sure that she would heed his words that she was only to call for the assignment. If it was indeed her, that had better be it: Craig was not going to get involved in any of their bullshit.

Retrieving his cheap "for emergencies only" cell from it's sable jean cave, fingers brushing a set of keys as he extracted the trim rectangle, he glanced cautiously at the screen to see that he had a text message from his little sister. Oh yeah, breathing a metaphorical sigh of relief, he forgot that because of some kind of testing - academic or else for health, he couldn't recall, nor did he care - she only had a half-day at school. At least that cleared that up.

 _Rents gone 4 date nite. Gone 2 Karen's 4 nite._

Really, date night. Wow. Well at least them all being out meant that he would have the house to himself, so, uh, yippie. Seriously that would have stoked most teens to hear the news that their folks would be out and that they'd have complete reign of the house, but for the most part his family stayed out of each other's hair even when everyone was there, so he didn't mind one way or another. On the bright side, if they decided to work on the project at his place that would mean fewer interruptions and possibly even a longer allowance for time before his partner had to bail for the night. If that was still even a plan. He probably should see about that, but heaven forbid he disturb the "happy couple" as they flirted closer to the danger zone.

Noticing the raven gazing at his phone, Tweek wondered out loud if anything was up. "Wh-who was that?"

Rolling his shoulders in a gesture more commonly known as a shrug, Craig pocketed his phone and collected his script (plus a pencil for editing), laying it gingerly on the table before answering his friend's question, knowing that neither of them would abuse the information. Clyde, on the other hand, would have been much more prone to spill the beans and make something out of it, but the teen knew that it was just a terminal yet harmless case of stupidity and having a big mouth, so he never was able to hold it against the other boy for long. But thankfully the brunette wasn't even there, so it was moot. "My sister. She's spending the night with her friend tonight."

Turning a page in a text book for one of his AP classes, Token peeked up from the squiggly lines and words to stare at his friend in that straight-laced matter-of-fact way that annoyed them all so much. Craig couldn't speak for the rest of the guys, but when Token looked at them like that, he was reminded of Broflovski when he got all judgmental. But at least with him, they knew that Token was dropping the truth on them because he cared. "Karen McCormick?" Why did he ask when it was obvious that he already knew the answer, it really wasn't necessary. "Karen's a good girl, I don't have anything against her, but you do realize that there will probably be a boy there?"

Doing the mature thing, Craig raised his hand up so his friend couldn't miss the gesture and he flipped the other boy off. Token rolled his pretty onyx eyes with a soft groan, and despite it not being aimed anywhere near him, Tweek flinched as if he were about to be struck. Of course there would be, she was at that age. Why was it so hard for them to understand that it wasn't his job to police her every move? If she was going to be that stupid and play the starry-eyed waif then that was on her; that wasn't to say that he wouldn't be there for her if she really needed him.

* * *

 **Author's Note** :

Well this chapter didn't have to be re-written like seven times lol

 ***Update 12/22/16***

Reordered some text and cut maybe five line worth of material. So far I'm just changing so much... Note the sarcasm that text can't always relay haha.

Permanent disclaimer.


	5. Yeah, No

Seriously, were people really that bored with their own amebae-against-the-untold-vastness-of-the-cosmos lives that they had to stoop so low as coming up with all these outrageous accusations, the brunt of which had been levied against a friend? Setting aside the factor of the relatively unexplored wildcard for a moment, the equation was still basic at its roots: South Park was a podunk little redneck town where everyone had been raised together, so in other words everyone knew everyone else, even introverted, standoffish assholes like Craig Tucker. By that logic no one should have believed for a minute that Craig would do half the things the rumors were insisting upon, and yet the claims just got wilder and wilder as the day wore on. Left purposely vague as it could be so that the unsettling image didn't get stuck in his head, personally Kyle just couldn't picture Craig sitting in the middle of an active class doing all number of disgusting things that only someone as perverted as Kenny could dream up. Jesus, now that Kyle thought about it, most of the rumors really were things that would be right up the blonde's ally if he could have gotten away with it.

Huh, that certainly would have been an interesting theory... But no, for whatever twisted reasons that the redhead couldn't even begin to fathom, Kenny and Craig were actually pretty good friends, so even if it was the blonde's MO (which for as long as Kyle had known Kenny McCormick, spreading malicious falsities just because was not the first way he'd pick to pass the time), he wouldn't do that to Craig. If anything, that sort of thing was Cartman's cup of lard-infused choco-caramel tea. And Cartman had been relatively quiet these past few days... Pursing his lips as he contemplated the fuel and who struck the match instead of actually eating his lunch, the bookworm glanced down the table to where their obese brunette sat comfortably, scrolling through the cyber leg of the mill with a harsh laugh every few messages. It didn't look like the calm before the storm, but this town had a way of catching you with your pants down, shoving an artificially produced cactus up your ass, taking a photo or two that only seemed to make the scene appear that much worse, and finally uploading the damaging evidence for all to see...

All smiles and laughs as they recounted an old episode of some show they had in common, backs to where Craig and those guys usually sat at the opposite end of the cafeteria, the unassuming alpha and the supplementary cling-on were throughly engrossed in their own little world. In an admirable yet incredible fake effort to pretend that they gave a crap about everyone else, they would occasionally take it in turns to ask Kyle a question or look in his direction, but it couldn't have been any more obvious that they were more preoccupied in their unnecessary game of flirts. As teens it was just in their hormones to act that way, the ongoing development of their social skills causing the design to plod along at a seemingly grueling pace, but standing outside and looking in through the field of containment the subjects had been bubbled in, it couldn't have been any more obvious that it was a waste of everyone's precious time. Hunter was completely smitten to the point where it could have reached cult-like dedication under the right conditions, so taking the time to build up the rest of the relationship was redundant, and for his part, Kyle knew that Kenny had his reasons (whatever they were) for not wanting to pursue an actual label of commitment. When they were kids Kenny was all for it, but somewhere along the lines he seemed to have altered his perceptions on the matter. Now all that remained to be seen was how Hunter would take that news when the bubble burst and things evolved to that stage. Unless she was down for the purely physical...

Arguing mentally against the dub of naysayer, the teen realized that there was still another factor to account for, and that was the matter of how true the rumors were. Obviously all those baseless stories about Craig and Hunter hooking up were utter bullshit and anyone who thought otherwise was a complete r-tard, however it wasn't that that was weighing so heavily on the young Jew's mind. No, what continued to pester him like his overbearing mother when she was breathing fire and on one of her kicks was that if there was any substance to the reports of Craig giving out his number in the first place. Willing wasn't the proper term for it, but he would have paid up a good ten bucks that the number of people that actually had that information could be counted on one hand, two if you included family. Merely an estimation on his part, but it seemed highly unlikely that Craig would just hand his number out, so if he did, then why? Kenny may not have found himself in a position to entertain the idea of going steady (which was commendable in his situation), but he was more or less upfront about it; if there was indeed a place in the picture for Craig, that would have been totally fucked. Come hell or high water, Kyle wasn't about to stand for one of his best friends getting screwed over, let alone by some bitch.

Not to say that he didn't like the new girl in his own way - it was quite the opposite in fact. Research and development, hydrogen peroxide and a good, sturdy scouring pad, Terrance and Phillip, they got along great together - that was apparent in the mere span of a few weeks - however there was absolutely zero physical attraction to be found between the pair of them without adding liquor, and even than that would have been a long-shot. Speaking factually, it would have been one of those 'this drink will either be just enough to make us sleep together, or else it'll literally kill me' kind of odds. So yeah, no thanks. Although if it weren't for their parents and their oh-so-subtle pressure, there wouldn't have been any sort of a need to even contemplate the likelihood of such an unholy act.

Karmically screwed in the sense that their parents were convinced it would "just be good business" if the kids were to become one of those couples that met in high school, married, and settled into abhorrent routine before they could even apply for college. Really it was hardly a secret between the two families that were it still the medieval era and the art of arranging marriages between minors was still a common, unquestioned practice, they probably would have settled on a nice dowry and married the teens that first day. Each nursing their own agendas for wanting the pair to happen, Robert (who from what Kyle could tell was always too busy to pay his progeny much attention in the first place), knew that his daughter had spent too much of her childhood playing the role of mother, so this was his opportunity to do something for her as she lacked the initiative. Gerald, who was verbally concerned that his boy wasn't spending enough time with a member of the opposite sex, also had it in his mind that if they followed in the footsteps of their fathers and became lawyers, then they could become one of the most powerful husband-wife law teams in the country. And as an added bonus for the law shark that could smell money like blood in the water, the union would have been the perfect chance for him to draft up the ultimate pre-nup that would have endured as the cruelest, most iron-clad agreement in the history of mankind. For Sheila, all she wanted was for her son to have a nice (preferably Jewish) girlfriend; despite meeting only once when they had gone over to the Bloodworth's house for a family dinner, she had apparently deemed Hunter a suitable candidate for the honor. Quoting her as "Polite, maternal, and almost as studious as her own baby", there seemed to be nothing immediately frown-worthy in her book, which in its own right was weird and revealed just how desperate she was for her desire to come true. Harsh as it was, he could understand why his mother felt that way. But all the same, for such a strict woman it was almost unnatural that she should have overlooked the two holes in Hunter's lower lip where two snakebites usually shone like black diamonds.

A fine enough scheme on paper, there were a few oversights on the self-congratulating adults parts: for one thing no one accounted for the girl stepping out of line before the blueprint could be completed, falling for another guy altogether; on that note, they didn't even consider what they themselves would have to say about being the unwilling subjects of their meddling (though for him at least that was nothing new); finally and most important of all, it was a crying shame that he didn't like girls that way. Or at least he hadn't been attracted to a female since about the seventh grade. Kyle wouldn't exactly consider himself to be out and open about it, but he would have figured that those that knew him the best would have picked up on something. Although it was probably for the best at this point in time that no one had, as his parents would probably go overboard and do everything in their power to convince him that this was just a phase. Knowing them they probably could manage it too, even if only for a moment.

However, in his case exactly how hard would it be to turn him around like the toy figurine on a spring that gave life to an otherwise ordinary music box? Uncomfortable with saying the words in his own mind with just himself as a witness, maybe it was all just a temporary flux - water following a current that had yet to bend - but presently he couldn't deny that he just felt a stronger attraction to the same sex. Being one-hundred percent honest with himself, when he excluded a few odd circumstances, there was only one person of either gender that he saw himself being in a relationship with, so maybe he wasn't "that way", maybe he was as close to asexual as you could get... Maybe he just didn't care about experiencing the physical aspects of sex, perhaps he had seen enough through his friends and had decided that it wasn't for him, but being human he couldn't shut it off completely, so every time that one certain person came around he got that funny feeling in his stomach... Maybe it was just who he was... But maybe it wasn't.

Pondering the matters of his own sexuality as his friends did their own thing around him, the studious cherry-pomegranate-haired teen noticed by chance that the stoic raven had glanced over from his roost twice. Scratch that, Craig's steely grays fell upon their table a third time. Deducing that there were only so many reasons for the other boy to be watching their group the nonchalant way he was, especially given how he professed to hate the three of them (the three being himself, Cartman (though who didn't hate him?) and Stan in particular), the second of two candidates for valedictorian of their cohort began to wonder anew if perhaps there was something to all of the rumors spiraling about. Well if any theory had ever warranted investigating, Kyle's newest one certainly did.

Deliberately groaning as he made a fuss over his workload, somewhat glad that he was not presently pouring over it should they get a bug up their ass that made them want to uncharacteristically check it out (setting aside when they tried to copy his work after bailing on an assignment), Kyle drew attention to the project that they had been assigned for astronomy. So far it was the only time that he had seen Craig and Hunter together with his own eyes, so it would have been the most likely time frame for any supposed fling. "Fuck dude, I don't know if Token and I will have the time to finish everything we planned." That wasn't strictly true, but they didn't need access to that particular data, so he carried on with his charade, strategically picking a moment when Kenny and Hunter had taken a small pause, very subtly asking the others, "What are all of you guys doing?"

Cartman poked his head up from his phone and shrugged, "Dunno, my partner just told me to stay back so they could do all the work." Made sense, Kyle wouldn't want to get stuck working with tubby either.

Also of a learned stock (though more lax in the school department than he himself was), the new girl smiled at the invite to an intelligent conversation and launched into a whole huge thing about her plans with Craig, "Oh, my partner's great! We really put our noses to the grindstone and have pretty much everything involved in the planing stages out of the way. We're even going to use art class to get a jump on all the painting and modeling." Excited about the prospect of having a mind to work with that would put half an effort into it, as opposed to someone like Cartman who would do nothing until the last possible moment (and even then that effort was historically shitty if it didn't involve degrading a single person, social class, race, or religion), she really didn't seem to notice what was coming out of her mouth. "Actually, we were talking about meeting up after school to-"

"Yer workin' yerself too hard, ya should consider takin' a break after school. Why not come over to my place? Or if you have ta watch yer little bro we can hang at yer house." Not a very big fan of where that strand of dialogue was about to go, or at least where it could have lead, Kenny cut across Hunter, though from what Kyle knew he had no room to be jealous, "Patty an' I didn' get much work done today, but we're not too worried yet."

Going stiff as a board at the mention of Patty Nelson, fingers curling inwards and grasping the edge of the table in an attempt to ease their trembling, mouth falling into a straight white line that lacked all trace of color, Hunter stared down at her tray in an effort to control herself, voice deathly quiet when she finally spoke, "Clearly." Jaw muscle tensing to prevent opening the floodgate for Pandora, Kyle could tell that there was so much more the young woman wanted to say, though she was resisting with all her might. And failing miserably. "You two were having too much fun to stop and think about what anyone else might think about it." Even Cartman had ceased his task to see if things would get ugly; Kyle thought that they really had that potential to.

Raising a pale yellow brow and failing to see what she found so critical about the situation, Kenny looked at Hunter with a kind of jaded hardness in his blue eyes, "What's that supposed ta mean? Yer the one gettin' all friendly with Craig."

"You might have missed it because your head is so far up your ass, but Craig's just my lab partner. That's it." Standing up with the air of a pissed off PMSing tomboyish copper-haired version of Shelly Marsh, raw hurt shining through the cracks of the facade, Hunter grabbed her bag and stormed off. She didn't even bother to grab her tray - that was probably for the best though, as the way she was fuming indicated that Kenny might have ended up wearing what remained of the soggy lunch leftovers if she had touched it.

Shaking his head, disappointed that nothing exciting had happened after all, Cartman set his phone down on the table to scroll through it that way, "Seriously brah, you need to learn to put a leash on your boyfriend. Stan never manned up to Wendy, and look at how that ended up." Oh good God, Kyle could have screamed at that moment, was this going to be one of those times when the Fatass actually made a valid point?! "You need to take him, smack him, and tell him how it's going to be! You may both be raging homos, but seriously, there can only be one man in the relationship." Cartman shrugged to show how many fucks he gave and flipped through a catalog of comments about whatever stupid crap he liked, "If that fails, you can always just kick him in the nuts, Kinny." Scanning over something else that he found to be funny, he laughed loudly and liked the post before regurgitating the thread back verbally. "Oh my God, Bebe just posted something so fuckin' girly about some kind of anniversary, and Clyde just re-posted a picture of himself with the rest of those assholes eating at the Taco Bell in Denver!" Leave it to Cartman to know where the Taco Bell was just by a picture.

As for the rest of it, Kyle would love nothing more than to say that this was not one of those times were there was a nugget of relevance amongst all the crap that Cartman spewed, but there really was something valid behind the idiocy. Gritting his teeth to just get passed that fact, the redhead nodded to where the new kid had just departed, green eyes dipping back to read the blonde and his reaction, "Dude, I think what Fatass is trying to say is that you need to talk to Hunter and make your position known."

"Oy!" Cartman exclaimed, jumping up to the defensive just like he used to in the good old days, "I'm not fat! I'm just big-boned!"

Ignoring that outburst from the hazel-brown brute, green eyes locked steadily into blue, the gaze softer than one of judgment but harsher than a simper of sympathy. Perhaps in this instance it would have been best to just let nature take its rightful course, however Kyle just didn't know when to leave well enough alone, so he deemed it his responsibility to push Kenny into making his move, whatever it might be. "Hunter really likes you dude." And if - after defending the twitterpated female to the other teen - the waif was just messing with him, Heaven help her...

* * *

 **Author's Note** :

Oops, I forgot to say in the last chapter that Craig's ringtone was the Cobra Starship song " _Middle Finger_ ", featuring Mac Miller. I spent a lot longer than I probably should have searching for something suitable, and even then I honestly had some doubt. How do you think I did? Assuming I get no feedback, I'm going to take your silence as "Ok".

As for this chapter, this is the point where the summary/opening italics will start to come into play. At least this is what will set all of that off. I know that it's taking forever for the point to emerge, but I don't always like the stories where everything just happens and everyone is suddenly just a couple. Plus being with an OC, I think that people might really hate it if that were to just happen, you know? Gotta pace it out (although I think my pacing might be shit).

 ***Update 12/23/16***

Removed the italicized intros mentioned a paragraph above, so just ignore that bit if you're reading this any time after the 23rd. Meh. Also, there was so little change about this chapter, I considered not even mention mentioning it.


	6. Counting The Bad

Twelve being the quintessential magic number in the fairy tales that Karen loved to hear so much, most of them abridged from memory or made up on the spot for her amusement and protection, none in particular came to mind where the deadline was the genesis of eve, the entire spectrum - if time itself became an issue - surrounding her fatal consummation. Yet if one were to consider this teenage travesty to be ancient lore come true, then the hour that defined the limits of sweet, sticky triumph and subjugation was the coming of noon. Of course it fucking was. Midday was when the classes became even more scattered and subservient to the supervising scruples of the Administrators of Chaos (not to be confused with Professor Chaos), or put another less gay way, that was when most of the elective and AP classes started. Lunch dwindling down to its last twenty or so minutes with a resounding tick-tock of the clock, without stealing the huntress away from the pursuit of knowledge, there was that little time before the meridian, and once class had started back up the rest of the day was as good as lost.

Although that was really only a problem if - the keyword here being a very major 'if' - he even wanted to bother, and frankly the blonde really wasn't sold that the girl would be worth the investment at this point. True, there was that whole "allure of the lustrous state-of-the-art plaything" vibe working in the new kid's favor, as well as that male mentality to be the first to mark the tree, and the mystery of how soon he could crack that nut (his house-credited chips being on sooner than later), yet in all honesty the boy was under the impression that if he were to peel back all of those layers, he was convinced that there wasn't much more beneath the meat. Thinking of it in terms that Kyle would undoubtedly appreciate if he could crack into his skull and examine the black mass of contents, Kenny would be among the first to admit that Hunter was good friend material with a set of perks and hindrances, but looking at the evidence he had gathered thus far, anything more than 'friends with benefits' was a label too far.

For example, Wendy had the whole 'smart girl with the best potential for a future once she dumped her boyfriend' niche, and if it came to just picking from the female populace based solely on looks (though he would never dream of limiting himself in such a ridiculous manner), depending on his mood that given day he'd most probably have to go with Bebe. So where did that leave Hunter in those regards? Nichole was the academic coin flip to Testaburger's political run; Stevens was close to the complete package as boobs with half a braincell; Heidi was the face he most imagined would be gracing the South Park edition of Teen Mom; Red was likely going to be that girl that peaked in high school; Milly would make it further than most, though ultimately she just might be that secretary or celebrity nanny that entered into a pathetic and/or fatalistic dead-end affair with her boss; Sally would make it out of town first before conveniently losing touch; Annie would be the one that left just to return in defeat; and finally Patty very well could be the one that would simply just up and vanish from the record books. Ok, so maybe with the exception of Patty that was just out of the cheerleaders, but can he help it if he had a certain type that he repeatedly returned to within the differing spheres of the genders?

The point being that everyone in his life - from the boys to Stan's gay dog Sparky - all had their own function within the machine, a specific role to play in the bigger picture that the performers had long since made their very own, an irreplaceable duty that would have been next to impossible to exchange for any other player. Finding the frayed tapestry that was his life constantly unraveling, there was just no room for spares, and currently that's all that Hunter was. Sure, maybe with time that slate could be sawed and meticulously honed to fit seamlessly among the few missing pieces of the puzzle, but that would mean one more person to loath for not even attempting to humor the explanation for his curse.

Doomed to return after the most painful, horrible, twisted, and sometimes even just insanely improbable means ever, the blonde had had more than enough after all these years. As a child playing pretend he had found it incredibly frustrating when trying to convince his friends of the truth, and as he grew up it only worsened as he retracted the scope to just those that he dated (was it so wrong to hope that even one person could believe him, one person that could have loved him anyways, for all that he was?). It must have been, because they were always laughing it off like his friends had or else they began distancing themselves for thinking he was crazy. Imaging that the times he died had at least done him the courtesy of increasing his pain tolerance, by high school Kenny was just so done going through all of that. When he had made the decision on the eve of freshman year to cease explaining his strange case, he hadn't immediately accounted for the time it took him to be reborn, that though his death went unmarked his absences did not. Apparently it turned out that people didn't take kindly to feeling ignored, even if he did have a valid excuse for it. So ultimately it just became easier to swear anything more serious than sex off, doing everything in his power to distance himself from other human beings, even when it made him seem like a dick. Lonely as that existence was, he knew deep down that was for best; what he didn't expect was that it would be better somehow, effortless even.

"Oy!" Just like in the good old days before they had to start thinking seriously about more than when the next new episode of Terrance and Phillip would be coming out (and before they were wise enough to just check for the schedule online), Cartman jumped up in agitation to correct their red-haired friend, "I'm not fat! I'm just big-boned!" That might have been true, but even if he had lost the weight, Eric would always be 'Fatass' to them.

Kyle ignored the eruption as if it were just the wind breaking, his green eyes boring down into his own pools of summery-blue, the gaze a literal ton on his conscience in the wake of its judgmental blaze, something softer like compassion lurking just below the surface. Naturally the other teen was concerned for the outcome of this, because the bookworm had that miserable luck of being put in the middle of two friends; if anyone could understand what that felt like to have the shittiest fortune in the hemisphere, it was Kenny. "Hunter really likes you dude." He knew that, it was just...

It wasn't good for any of them. Unable to read where the new kid would fall on the spectrum of wanting a relationship or being cool with just being a simple fling, he was inclined to think from her attitude that she was a creature of commitment, yet the way she just barreled into Clyde's dare surrounded by a group of boys that she barely even knew screamed otherwise. While Hunter had every sign of being ripe for the picking, there were still other factors to consider. Say that for whatever reason the new girl was completely down with agreeing to be nothing more to him than a simple (possibly reoccurring) fuck, when it inevitably came out that they hooked up in her first week of school and proved the rumors to be virtually true, what would that drive her to do? Hero or not, the blonde wasn't leaping with joy at the notion that he could be a part of the reason that the rumor mill destroyed a weaker link on the chain. Maybe she could handle it and he was just selling her short, but the way Hunter was glomping him at every possible opportunity didn't leave the impression she had much of a backbone to stand on her own.

And that was just the beginning...

Feeling the unwelcome yet familiar weight of jade eyes watching him expectantly, Kenny sighed in defeat and shoved his empty styrofoam tray forward, knowing that Kyle was going to keep at it until he left the cafeteria, the redhead naturally assuming in pursuit of a certain single lady. Yeah, no, not happening today. "Not cool dude." Standing up in no particular haste, the blonde clutched his bag from the tawny tile and turned to leave, only looking back once to nick the tart granny smith apple from the redhead's untouched platter, "Until music." He too left his tray for Kyle to deal with; it was a small enough price to pay for getting involved.

Munching the bitter-sweet flesh of the apple thoughtfully as he gazed almost lazily around the abandoned hallway, wondering where he should go since he was no longer welcome in the mess hall, the blonde adjusted his backpack as he threw it across the left shoulder, deciding to head for the music room. While about half the kids opted for art instead of music, he was not one of them; too poor to afford his own drum kit (granted he could have saved up for them, that didn't change the fact that there was no where he'd feel safe leaving them since his parents liked to rent out the garage), he really took solace in the instrument. Perhaps he could just put it all form his mind for a bit and practice...

"...home, per say?" Turning around the final bend before hitting the music room, the blonde caught sight of the leader of the South Park Vampire Society, the acid green dip-dye of Mike Makowski unmistakable even from behind. He was speaking quite calmly with the red-haired Goth as if this had been an intentional meeting, which was an oddity given how their two cliques loathed the very existence of the other.

Overcome with curiosity at what could possibly unite these two unlikely conversationalists, Kenny ducked back behind the jutting row of cheaply painted emerald and diamond lockers, employing all the stealth techniques he had ever learned to avoid being discovered. None the wiser that the dialogue was no longer private, Pete replied to whatever question Mike had asked him in that hushed, unused voice of his, "Really, Count Fagula?" Unable to see the other boy's face and already craning to hear what Modest Mouse was saying, the only one in the corridor with natural hair thought that there was something in the silence that followed the nickname to be, well, almost endearing. "You sent me that urgent text just to ask me that?" Dark brown and bordering on black, the goth kid rolled his eyes. "I had to give Henrietta the rest of my cigarette so I come here, douchefang."

Whatever was happening, it seemed to be going in the Vamp Kid's favor. "You're cute when you pout, per say."

Blushing dark enough to almost match the dye in his oily locks - that shine certainly wasn't one of health - the pockmarked teen grumbled something inaudible and reached into his pocket at a sudden chirp of 'Death and Despair', fumbling with his phone. He waited for the other party to say what they called to say before opening his own mouth, eyes cast on Mike as the taller of the two reached across the small space between them and began to run his hand up the length of his arm before jerking him closer. Apparently whoever was on the other end of the line heard Pete's sudden gasp too, because the first thing he said was, "N-nothing. I just stumbled at bit." Leaning against Mike, Kenny saw the smaller teen's mouth shape the words 'dammit Mike' before answering the rest of the call. "Wait, Firkle got invited to whose house?" There was a pause as they elaborated on the situation, completely oblivious to the vampire pressing his lips into the crook of Pete's neck. "Bloodworth? That's pretty goth. Yeah, alright, I'll be there."

Grinning (body twisted around his lover, Makowski's head was turned around into a position where their spy could see his expression) and a lot bolder than apparently either of them realized he was capable of, the green-haired boy snatched Pete's phone and closed it before the conversation could continue. Following up to that brazen action, he smirked wickedly and stole a kiss from the goth before his outrage could be properly vented. It seemed to calm down the initial fury, but he was still sulking. "So then I can't come over today?"

Breathless from the surprise of being smooched like that, Pete growled, "I told you not to do that when I'm on the phone." Flustered, that didn't stop him from returning the lip-lock with one of his own, the hand that was still holding his phone snaking around Mike's waist to pull him closer. "I'll leave the window unlocked later, Count Fagula."

Well at least now Hunter wouldn't have to worry about finding a babysitter for her brother while she's gone at Craig's...

* * *

 **Author's Note** :

Because Pete/Vampir is freaking awesome!

 ***Update 12/23/16***

Literally only added a handful of words. Jazzy. But, yay for not having to edit a whole lot?


	7. Craig's Carpool

_I'll be coming home_  
 _Just to be alone_  
 _Cause I know you're not there_  
 _And I know that you don't care_  
 _I can hardly wait to leave this place_

 **Craig's POV:**

Crammed into the modest (yet pine-fresh thanks to the intoxicatingly pleasant neon-colored air freshener swinging from the rear-view mirror) backseat like a sardine in a can, legs folded Indian-style to make way for the backpacks amongst the load of laundry and fabric softener shoved on the floor behind the passenger seat, Hunter was packed in between jittery Tweek and too-cool-for-school Token in his custom-made leather riding jacket. Situation far from ideal, the stillness that was Token was more than welcome in comparison to the occasional hamster-like shudders of Tweek, despite the musty cloud of knowledge that clung like the plague and the bags - yes, bags, being plural - set up all around the rich boy, the smallest and least descript of which was propped on his lap beneath the sleek silver-toned tablet he was focused on. Earthy, slender Tweek, the noirette watched the girl notice from the rear view mirror when they all crowded in, was very gentle as he placed his bag on the floor at his feet, movements deft even when his hands were not. Clyde called shotgun and threw his stuff in the car before any of them knew what was left and what was right, fingers flying over the radio before Craig could even put the keys in the ignition.

Mindful of what they had all seen last night at Stark's Pond, and wary of the rumors that were flanking not only the new kid but their best friend and leader as well, Tweek, Token, and Clyde were doing what they could to make Hunter feel welcome. Plus on an unconscious level, or perhaps even intentionally, they wanted to show to the new kid (and anyone else who may have been watching the scenario) that they were marginally better than those other four assholes. Not that any of them would be so quick to own up to that fact out loud, lest Cartman get wind of it and think that his group were anywhere near the same level.

Craig could care less. Slapping Clyde's hand away from the stereo as it automatically started and began to play the last song he had been listening to when they got to school that morning, the only thing he wanted was for this day to be over. As if it wasn't irritating enough that he had to contend with something as simple as his trying to cooperate for the assignment getting blown wildly out of proportion, the stoic teen also had to endure the repetitive image of the new kid stripping down for a dumb dare that was neither cleaver nor amusing. In fact he found the visual to be more haunting than anything else, obviously using the word 'haunting' in the sense that it had been a traumatic experience and not one that he found to be appealing the way that Clyde had. _Only Clyde_ , the alpine adolescent thought with an internal growl as his steely eyes swept over the trio of commuters in the back and around again to the brunette. If the other boy wasn't built like a brick shit-house and one of his best friends since forever, the raven would have felt personally inclined to kick his ass on principle, however, as it stood Craig even trying to murder Clyde would have been like a fly bouncing harmlessly (and comically) against a glass wall.

And what fresh torment did his lovable oaf unwittingly inflict this time? Oh, he just had to confess in chemistry (with McCormick right in front of them no less) that the brunette had helped put Mr. Kleenex's kids through college while thinking of the new girl's antics from yesterday. Naturally he 'didn't think much of her any other time'. For his part, McCormick was going through class like he normally would have been before that remark, but after Clyde had let it slip out that he couldn't get the picture of Hunter standing there in her underwear in front of them all out of his head, the blonde had gone remarkably quiet. Well, quiet for McCormick.

Personally - the only thing he wanted from Hunter being for the pair of them to just hurry and finish their work so that they could be done with each other until the next project came around - Craig didn't get it. Obviously it spoke for itself why Clyde had been dumbstruck and oblivious as Marsh, but what didn't add up was that if nothing was going to happen with the new kid, why then did McCormick seem so bothered by Clyde's comment? All through lunch they were less than an inch of fabric from being all over each other (it was disgusting), and then for the rest of the day they were acting like a sped-up reversed version of Testaburger and Marsh, Bloodworth pouting like a dejected five year old while McCormick continued to flirt with whatever would bite (and with his looks, there was never a shortage of interested parties). Though he really only cared so far as it affected her ability to work later, it was elementary levels of easy to figure out that apparently something was said and the new kid stormed off to be alone, the blonde undoubtedly sent forth at Broflovski's behest.

Friends or not, Craig wasn't going to pretend that he ever understood what went on in the perverse mind of that other blonde. Having said that, the noirette was confused as to how Broflovski was actually laboring under the impression that McCormick would make nice and play ball, as ever since high school began there was the very notable pattern of McCormick bowing out of the long game. Broflovski and McCormick seemed to be great friends, so why now all of a sudden did Broflovski think that he would stick around? Was it possible that he knew something that no one else did? Or was he just hoping that something would happen? If that was the case, why should it even matter? Craig really just couldn't fathom why someone would bother with another person's relationship when they had nothing to gain from it.

"Come on Craig I know it's your car, but no one else likes this crap!" A dog that never learns no matter how many times you swat it's nose with the Sunday edition of the morning paper, the muscular brunette whined as he reached once more for the controls. Removing his hand from the stick-shift before he could glance back to pull out of the parking lot, the raven rapped his friend across the back of his hand. Withdrawing the stung appendage for a moment, Clyde sucked dramatically at the prominent ridges of his knuckles, "That's it, tomorrow I'm getting a lift with Bebe and Wendy!"

"You promise?" Craig half-hoped that it would come to pass, but so far these series of outbursts had only been empty threats and forgotten declarations.

 **Hunter's POV:**

Collected as a glass of milk, Token remained glued to his tablet and gave no sign that he had heard the exchange, but a warm batch of mom's homemade cookies, Tweek's lips had curled up at both corners instantaneously, the edges gooey with fondness. Infectious as the taste of batter was sweet, the new girl couldn't help but to grin at the realization that this was normal for them, that the jock would say or do something that irritated the future directors of America, and the filmmaker would glower about it while not really doing anything, while =the barista and the heir would mind their business. Truth be Hunter really liked this song, but it seemed prudent to follow the lead of her backseat compatriots, so she kept her trap shut. Normal was great. She could use normal in her life, especially since... Well it didn't matter anymore, that was all in the past.

By far the most acquainted with the new kid since she had spent most of her free time before the official move in his family's coffee shop, it would have made sense for Tweek to strike up the first conversation, however coming up with a topic on the fly would have been "too much pressure", so instead Token took the reins. It was either him or Clyde, and as the four of them knew, it was better to go with the alternate. "So the TA try to suck your blood yet?" Reaching around the seat to grab the family-sized bag of potato chips Clyde had stashed away from the brunette's very hands, fingertips glancing harmlessly from the pebbled material of the larger boy's letterman, the boy offered the other two the bag.

Referencing the upperclassman that the teacher had introduced as Mike Makowski, much to the boy's chagrin, the Vamp Kid had been tasked by the teacher with catching the new kid up on all all that had been covered in AP chemistry so far. And no, aside from privately correcting the introduction as Vampir, he hadn't really said much of anything more than he was required to. "He didn't leave the classroom with a black eye, did he?"

Spewing the mouthful of chips he had been inhaling prior to the theft of the bag all over the peeling gray dash, Clyde burst out laughing at the remark; Token chuckled softly before nibbling his own chip, having no doubt that the girl could clean the floor with the goody-goody vampire wannabe; even Tweek managed a humorous smile of approval. Craig... Craig just kept his eyes on the road. Obviously for safety reasons it was good that he observed the rules of the road, even if he was doing so by going a half-a-mile slower than her dead grandfather, yet for reasons that she couldn't understand, the lack of a reaction really bothered Hunter.

 **Craig's POV:**

 _Don't stop, make it pop_  
 _DJ, blow my speakers up_  
 _Tonight, Imma fight_  
 _'Til we see the sunlight-_

"I thought I told you if you kept that crappy ringtone we would no longer be friends." There was no question in that statement, logically as statements tended to be fact and asserted opinion that had been proven and held up over time. "That chick blows." Honestly, was he the only one around here with any actual taste in music?

Due to their respective angles it was impossible to see who was calling, but there was no doubt in anyone's mind that it was Bebe. Accepting the call with all possible haste, the brunette answered with a big, goofy, love-struck grin, completely forgetting that whole 'don't seem too eager' rule. Token, who was currently single to focus on his studies, rolled his eyes at the mushy display and engaged the new girl in a hushed conversation about their classwork, inquiring how far she had gotten on the worksheet and if she had an answer to number four. Filling him in that she was exactly halfway through problem six, they discussed the equation and how they had come up with the same answer. Tweek was the only one listening to Craig as he muttered darkly under his breath.

After listening to the curly-haired blonde chatter from the Community Center all the way to City Sushi, Clyde was finally allowed to say something more than a barely-acknowledged greeting, "...So you want to come over later?" Aggravated by the cluelessness of the jock, there was a scream on the other end of the line that they could all hear in the vehicle. Sensing that he had said the wrong thing, he was quick to try to amend his mistake, whatever it was. "I mean so you can talk about it in full detail." Well that seemed to work, because all of five seconds later everyone else was trying not to be nauseous from the sheer amounts of "no, I love you more".

And that was precisely why Craig didn't have a significant other.

 **Hunter's POV:**

Acutely aware of the acidic taste of bile burning up the back of her throat, the baby-talk devolving to a point where she was convinced that she was actually losing IQ points, Hunter stuck her tongue out in disgust, "Blugh, that right there is exactly why I don't date and do that girly hearts-and-flowers crap." Well that, and when she wasn't preoccupied playing mama hawk to her little brother, their dad had some super bogus rules he demanded they follow. Plus it probably didn't help any that guys weren't exactly lining the block for the second-rate ginger Ronda Rousey that could probably kick their ass in a serious fight.

"Huh?" Tilting his head to the side for a better look at the person sitting next to him in Craig's ancient metal deathtrap, the lemon-headed blonde was deeply unsettled by that claim because he was still apparently under the impression that there was something going on between Kenny and Hunter. "But I thought that you and Kenny-?"

Wagging her head steadily back and forth so that the stray trailing cinnamon locks lightly brushed the worn fabric of her army jacket and hoodie combo, gray-blue orbs meeting Craig's solid unfeeling gray through the mirror for the briefest of moments, the female wondered if he could tell that her jaw had gone tight at the mention of Kenny's name, nothing left in her eyes but hurt and disappointment. After burning that final bridge to the road of somewhere (somewhere being the kinder, less crass way of saying sex) during lunch, it became all too clear to the teen that nothing was going to happen with the ice-cool blonde, nothing fun at least. "Nope."

 **Craig's POV:**

Notwithstanding the rumors circulating like vultures, if what they had seen at Stark's Pond was any indication of what was to come, the boys would have thought for sure that Kenny would at least hang on until he had gotten what he wanted. Based on what they knew about the new kid in town - which granted wasn't very much - Hunter didn't seem the type. Either way, that lackluster answer wasn't good enough for the other passengers; blood in the water, the raven could tell that they were all on the verge of asking for a better explanation than that.

Armed with more information than most, he had been the first to find the new girl in the art room ten minutes before classes resumed. _Yeah, that was a fun experience_. Just like getting your teeth pulled or having guys you barely even talk to swindle you out of your birthday money, get you arrested by the federal government, and sent to another country to save everyone from an evil Guinea Pirate.

"We're here." Stopping the car abruptly before anyone could actually ask what was on everyone's mind, they pulled up outside of a gated community that seemed to have only one resident family.

* * *

 **Author's Note** :

So many rewrites... So hard... to nail down the chapter I want... *dies dramatically* But seriously, is it offensive to use the term "Indian-style"? I think it might be... If so, (and this applies to all language and such as well) I don't mean anything offensively! I'm just trying (and failing) to keep as close to the source material as I can. Yeah, the food analogy was a bit weird... Oh, and the song playing in the stereo is " _Home_ ", by Three Days Grace, and Clyde's ringtone is " _Tik Tok_ ", by Ke$ha. Or Kesha, whichever. There were a handful I thought would have been good for him, but I didn't want to spend like seven hours trying to narrow down something that it'll only probably show up like maybe twice.

Oh, and any thoughts on the format of this chapter? I'm not hating it, but I'm not sure if I'll keep with it or not.

 ***Update 12/23/16***

Again, didn't really add/change much.


	8. Perhaps This Place Could Use More Black

Ultimately making a gigantic loop around the town, assuming that it was a work day for everyone (which it was for everyone except Craig) the road ended at Tweek Bros. Employed at the mall and on the fast-track for a management position, Token either departed outside the front gates on street-level or else chose to be dropped off outside the front gates on the street a whole building over if he felt like he needed the exercise. Threatened with replacement (or worse) if he tarried too long, Tweek was always the second to go when he was let out at the coffee shop - the cost in wasted gas was not a perk by any means, but Craig reasoned that since he didn't drive much outside of the carpool, it was good on his vehicle. The most likely to have off days, the brunette found very fitting employment at the Photo Dojo; more often than not Clyde bailed at the old homestead (a whole house ahead of his own), however there were occasions Clyde would walk the rest of the way to his own damn destination.

Seat open for the taking once the other three passengers were no longer in the picture, the new kid saw it fit to capitalize on the vacancy. Apparently the new girl was either not overly fond of the idea of being stuck in the backseat when there was a perfectly good opening up front, or she must not have liked the laundry basket staring her in the face, because in a very Clyde-like move, she scrambled between the space separating the front and back. But not before tossing her bag against the dash so it plopped down against the bottom of the seat like a stone.

Tone pragmatic as ever, the teen shrugged anemically at the human worm as he backed out of the parking lot, "You know that you could have just used the door." It wasn't exactly like his heap was in the best of conditions, so it would have been pointless to squawk, and anyways, the others had done the same thing a billion times before, the brunette's personal tally so high the raven had quit keeping track. Dodging a tinsy smidge to the left to avoid an ebony sneaker to the chin, hands holding tight to the steering wheel to keep control of the vehicle should the worst happen, Craig privately mused to himself that the utter lack of a comment displayed once and for all how much more suited the girl was to the company of those four assholes. Perhaps that assessment was a tad premature, but if the new kid could have eyes for someone like McCormick, it was unlikely that she would be on the up and up. "Just a thought for next time."

Unimaginable, though not entirely inconceivable: after all, the new kid had earnestly apologized to the four of them for her behavior at Stark's Pond the day prior - not that he saw anything too unforgivable that she ought to feel contrite about - and again during lunch, when he had the horrible luck of finding her crying in the darkened classroom. Somehow a trait that the opposite four sorely lacked, the ability to say sorry made all the difference in the world and said something about her character, that she might have actually possessed at least one redeeming trait. Maybe. Whichever way he looked at it, unlike the blonde her eyes molested every time he was in the same room, the new girl had the potential to be a half-decent human being that could own up to their faults and make good on past errors. Just maybe, although it still wasn't enough to qualify for the listed approvals. Since he had first encountered Bloodworth as a customer a month ago (she was a generous tipper at any rate), he had had maybe four conversations with the new kid, so it wasn't really enough to form a concrete opinion just yet.

Contemplating all possible meanings of the phrase 'silent as the grave' as they drove passed the mossy wart that was the bank, the slouching female figure tore her semi-glazed, wandering gaze from the snow-and-hail speckled window and gazed at him sideways, mouth working at half speed a few moments before her voice decided to join the mix. Two octaves lower than the normal he had registered for the girl's person, the raven thought that she seemed conflicted about saying whatever it was that she wanted to get off her chest, the words rough on her tongue when they finally did decide to come, "Thank you."

 _Thank you?_ Words sounding almost foreign in his ears, there was a force in his gut telling him that the girl meant more than just for the lift and for being a good lab partner, that it had more to do with back there when Token had gotten out of the car. The noirette wished that it was as simple as him just being cooperative and hospitable for the assignment, because then he could have told her that she was welcome so they could leave it be and move on, and if they absolutely had to talk it would just be about the project. But no, it was deeper than that. _Maybe_ , he dared to think in a manner verging on hopeful, _I could get away with just accepting it and that would be the end of it_.

 _Yeah right, and I'm going to get reimbursed that hundred dollars._

Opening his mouth to acknowledge the comment, fully aware that fate had fucked him into a corner that left all outlooks futile, the Tucker boy found that no sound was forthcoming. Hastily closing his trap so that he wasn't mirroring a fish gasping desperately for water on dry land, the boy prayed that his traveling companion was too busy playing with the pull-strings of her hoodie to catch on, that if she did see the motion she could just write it off as him breathing through his mouth. It wasn't that he particularly cared what conclusions she reached (if the young lad were to be concerned with what any of his peers thought, it certainly wouldn't be some new kid he didn't know from shit and shinola); identified largely due to his stoicism and utter lack of fucks given, Craig Tucker was almost a fucking brand, and if he were to say anything, she might misconstrue it as him getting involved, which was the absolute last thing he wanted.

"..." Silence.

 **Hunter's POV:**

Not a complete ignoramus, it wasn't exactly rocket science to figure out what her lab partner had done for her with the others back there, nor was it neuroscience to see that he had been about to say something to her gratitude before changing his mind at the last possible moment. Honestly it was already bad enough what the rumors were saying without anyone getting wind of the really juicy stuff - i.e. her totally unrequited crush on Kenny and subsequent sob-fest in the art room - so it was probably best for everyone that he ignored it and just remained silent. Really, who needed the extra drama? Fair enough, Craig Tucker didn't strike the sort to stir the pot and pour in the spices while butchering the cow, but all the same who knew where that road could have ended if he had addressed it.

Glistening flecks of slate catching in the late afternoon rays, the snow was falling in lazy spirals before getting caught in an opposing drift of the wind, the rough tumbling breath sending the odd flake to pile up precariously on the stationary emerald bushes and earthy chartreuse trees or else melt on the lone figures trudging along on the streets. Observing the spectacle with wonder-filled eyes, having never been able to see such a sight before, let alone in the autumn, Hunter forgot why it had even seemed like a good idea to bring it up in the first place.

And then reality came crashing down through the sweet golden moment of peace like Cartman devoured an entire bag of cheesy poofs during break: very loudly and with almost no breathing room while flecks of powdered "cheese" flew out in every conceivable direction. "What the fuck is this?!" Cautiously taking the poorly shoveled turn down the street at the bus stop next to where she lived, Hunter gapped in disbelief as she saw four figures in black walking up her lawn with none other than her own darkly-clad little brother in the lead. "I did not OK this! I told him that he was to go home after school with Ike!"

Shifting his eyes along the road to see what his passenger was seeing, the boy merely shrugged and kept driving. Theoretically the car wasn't going so fast that jumping out was out of the question - she'd bailed out of a moving vehicle before - however, a deeply-ground sense of duty had stayed the initial thought of leaping out of the grandpa-mobile and murdering her sibling on the spot. Craig had done a solid without even being asked to, so it was on her to do what she could for him, even if that was only to not delay the project any further; not to mention that were Avery to die, Hunter might just miss him. And honestly, she felt really guilty for what happened after lunch in the classroom.

 **Firkle's POV:**

The house was depressing. Not that haunted, gothic feel that would have left the lot of them feeling comfortable, but the kind of morbid eventually-blow-your-brains-out-for-the-fat-Latina-maid-to-find that marked the height of Nazi cheerleader conformism. Teal on the outside and somewhat more acceptable shades of blushing dust on the rotted innards, the crisp wallpaper tried desperately for that streamline 50's theme with peachy roses born only to die; it might have been a passable masquerade were it not for the dour child dragged into the bleached beech frames. Freckles defiantly fighting their last against auburn hair rebelling against the convention that was hygiene, the boy glowered in each and every picture from about the third grade on, grey-blue eyes tinted with drowning hues of green a much darker shade than the other girl that stood at his side forcing a smile like the rest of the Brittney-wannabes. There were only two photographs in the entire set that depicted a dark-haired male knocking on Death's front door, the rest being a shrine dedicated to a woman with deep crimson waves crashing against her lightly tanned complexion like a bloody tide. The boy shared the woman's eyes, though hers lacked the same hardness and spite.

"Welcome to my prison. As if this," pointing overhead at the high windows letting in the dancing rays of light that made the mites and other particles visible, the host made a swirling motion to implicate the entire building, "wasn't hell enough playing happy in suburbia, the move is never complete without Mother Dearest." Touching the oak end table beneath one of the countless portraits, he gripped the corner until his knuckles turned white, the sweet nectar of resent evident in his tone. "Jordana died when I was just a baby, leaving my sister to look after the both of us." At the mention of his sister, a pair of smoky gray eyes fell upon the frozen punky scowl of a Scene Kid. Ergh, as if the douchebag Vampire-wannabes weren't bad enough.

Michael gazed around the room with a bored expression, unlit cigarette sagging limply from the line his mouth was forming, and Pete kept running his hand over whatever was in his pocket as if he were about to jump out of his skin if he didn't keep up constant contact. If it wasn't his cell, it was probably a cast of his boyfriend's dick for when the quiet goth was jonsing for a taste. Moving to get a closer look at the rest of the photos lining the walls and surfaces at regular intervals, only Henrietta showed the vaguest hint of interest in whatever Avery was talking about, one hand reaching out to trace a thick, sausage-y finger against the pristine glass. The preteen merely hung back and observed as Death would, the decidedly human part of him somewhat dying to leave this place so he could go over to Karen McCormick's place later.

Knowing just the bare minimum of Avery Bloodworth's story, the goth girl lingered a moment at the snapshot of the woman at a lake with inky black waters perfect for reflecting the darkness inside, her hands tight on the shoulders of a loaf of bread in a sable Christening gown. Or maybe the loaf of bread was a baby, whatever. Either way, the doughy lump waiting for the expiration date was swimming in a mass of obsidian fabric that wasn't unlike what one wore during the special events in the cult of Cthulhu..Aw.

Suddenly with a name like Bloodworth, being involved with a cult made a world of sense to the others. "Are you telling me that your family are a part of the Cult of Chtulhu?" Michael and Pete exchanged glances with Henrietta, the three of them having been former members way back. "That's hardcore."

Falling back in with that crowd after a time, Firkle went regularly enough to the dark gatherings to know that he'd never seen Avery or any of the other conformists lining the walls at any of the meetings, so he called shenanigans. "Bullshit poser, why haven't I seen you or your family after the sermons?"

Before commenting, Avery noticed that they were all peering at the picture one by one until all eyes were focused on the same point, and after they had openly addressed it he must have felt inclined to explain. "Because we stopped going. Back then Robert was a holy man, they went to their church every week. At first I never understood why we stopped attending, but I once overheard him telling my sister when she asked why he stopped us from going that something happened the day of her Christening that upset Jordana, and they started going less and less until she died. I don't even think they had me baptized in blood, they were so freaked out over whatever happened. We don't talk about it now, and when anyone asks us we're supposed to say that we're atheists."

Narrowing his heavily outlined natural hazel eyes suspiciously at his classmate, Firkle was pretty confident that there was more to the story, but having been in the Cult of Cthulhu for as long as he had, he knew that there was often times more to the tale than anyone knew, so he chose to leave it be. For now...

* * *

 **Author's Note** :

Again, the map I use for the story is the one from the Stick of Truth, the only real difference being that the elementary school is pretty much the high school (or maybe the high school is like an unseen building away, bunched right next to the middle school?). Meh, either way the school is still basically on the same grid line. As for the rest of the story, I like how I incorporated the goths and also gave a little more background at the same time. But maybe that's just me?

 ***Update 12/26/16***

Pretty much just touched the top of this chapter, not so much the bottom.


	9. Good, Old-fashioned Jealousy and an Idea

**Warning** : the first six paragraphs are full of fact (unedited, largely). The actual chapter begins at the seventh column.

* * *

October, as the bookworm knew, was a very important month historically. It was when the People's Republic of China was founded with Mao Zedong as Chairman, the Panama Canal Zone was formally handed over to Panama after 70 years of American control, and Egyptian President Anwar Sadat, who also shared the Nobel Peace Prize with Menachem Begin of Israel in October three years prior, was assassinated in Cairo by Muslim fundamentalists while watching a military parade. Queen Marie Antoinette was beheaded during the Reign of Terror following the French Revolution, Japanese Emperor Hirohito made his first-ever visit to the White House in the early 70's, and Napoleon Bonaparte arrived on the Island of St. Helena beginning a British-imposed exile following his defeat at the Battle of Waterloo. Italy declared war on its former Axis partner Germany after the downfall of Mussolini and collapse of his Fascist government, and former President Theodore Roosevelt was shot by a fanatic while campaigning in Milwaukee. Making a full recovery two weeks later, he was saved by his thick overcoat, a glasses case and a folded speech in his breast pocket, all of which slowed the bullet. Although wounded, he insisted on making the speech with the bullet lodged in his chest and did not go to the hospital until the meeting ended. It was pretty boss.

After 45 years of Cold War division, East and West Germany were reunited as the Federal Republic of Germany, Hungary declared itself a republic 33 years after Soviet Russian troops crushed a popular revolt against Communist rule, Uganda achieved independence after nearly 70 years of British rule, Paraguay declared its independence from Spain and Argentina, and Brazil became independent of Portugal. Martin Luther nailed his 95 Theses to the door of Wittenberg's palace church, marking the beginning of the Protestant Reformation in Germany. The first non-Italian Pope chosen in 456 years, cardinal Karol Wojtyla of Poland was elected and took the name John Paul II. Pope Paul VI became the first Pope to visit the U.S. and the first to address the United Nations. During the late 1500's, the Gregorian Calendar took effect in Catholic countries, and two hundred years later Greenwich was established as the universal time from which standard times throughout the world are calculated. Roughly fifty years apart, the first transcontinental telegram in America was sent from San Francisco to Washington, and then came the first transatlantic radio voice message, which was made by the American Telephone and Telegraph Company from Virginia to Paris. From there Thomas Edison successfully tested an electric incandescent lamp, keeping it lit for over 13 hours. The first "talkie" opened in New York: _The Jazz Singer_ starring Al Jolson was the first full-length feature film using spoken dialogue.

A gift from the people of France commemorating the French-American alliance during the American Revolutionary War, the Statue of Liberty was dedicated on Bedloe's Island in New York Harbor. Though separated by a number of years, the cornerstone of the White House was laid by George Washington before coming full-circle with the completion of the Mount Rushmore National Memorial after 14 years of work. The first of 85 Federalist Papers appeared in print in a New York City newspaper. Written by Alexander Hamilton, James Madison and John Jay, the essays argued for the adoption of the new U.S. Constitution. The New York City subway began operating, running from City Hall to West 145th Street, the first underground and underwater rail system in the world, and despite geographical differences, both Yale and Harvard Universities were founded. After a 33-day voyage, Christopher Columbus made his first landfall in the New World in the Bahamas. He named the first land sighted as El Salvador, claiming it in the name of the Spanish Crown. A little thing known as the Cuban Missile Crisis ended with the announcement by Soviet Russia's leader Nikita Khrushchev that his Soviet government was halting construction of missile bases in Cuba and would remove the offensive missiles. President Kennedy immediately accepted the offer then lifted the U.S. naval blockade of Cuba.

Ukrainian Prime Minister Vitaly Masol resigned after mass protests by students, becoming the first Soviet official of that rank to quit under public pressure. The Space Age began as the Russians launched the first satellite into orbit, exactly ten years and ten days after U.S. Air Force Captain Chuck Yeager became the first man to break the sound barrier, flying in a rocket-powered research aircraft. The U.S. detonated its first hydrogen bomb at the Elugelab Atoll in the Eniwetok Proving Grounds in the Pacific Marshall Islands, and China detonated its first nuclear bomb at the Lop Nor test site in Sinkiang. Occurring as part of Russia's de-Stalinization program under his successor Nikita Khrushchev, the body of Joseph Stalin was removed from the mausoleum in Red Square and reburied within the Kremlin walls among the graves of lesser Soviet heroes. Stalin's name was also removed from public buildings, streets, and factories. Stalingrad was renamed Volgograd.

Also a big time in Africian-American culture, Civil Rights leader Martin Luther King, Jr. became the youngest recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize, donating the $54,000 in prize money to the Civil Rights movement. Thurgood Marshall was sworn in as the first African American associate justice of the U.S. Supreme Court. Frank Robinson was hired by the Cleveland Indians as baseball's first African American major league manager. Earl Lloyd became the first African American to play in a National Basketball Association (NBA) game when he took the floor for the Washington Capitols in Rochester, New York. The Million Man March took place in Washington, D.C., under the direction of Nation of Islam leader Louis Farrakhan, who delivered the main address to the gathering of African American males. Ok, so maybe Kyle didn't know as much about historical events in the African-American community that occurred in October, but it wasn't a race thing.

Seeing its fair share of horrors, this was the same month that the ill-fated Donner Party departed Illinois heading for California, prohibition began in the U.S. and lasted for fourteen years that saw the trade become highly profitable for organized crime which manufactured and sold liquor in saloons called speakeasies, fascist blackshirts began their "March on Rome" from Naples which resulted in the formation of a dictatorship under Benito Mussolini, the stock market crashed, and the Great Fire of Chicago erupted. Famed gangster "Scarface" Al Capone was sentenced to 11 years in jail for Federal income tax evasion, and Ukrainian Prime Minister Vitaly Masol resigned after mass protests by students, becoming the first Soviet official of that rank to quit under public pressure. On a somewhat more cheerful note, the United Nations was founded and the Battle of Britain concluded. Honestly there was no shortage of relevant births, but the most important were by far Dr. Jonas Salk (who created the cure of polio), Bill Gates, Gandhi, Noah Webster, German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche, Admiral William "Bull" Halsey, Dwight D. Eisenhower, Giuseppi Verdi, John Adams, Robert Goddard, George Westinghouse, theologian Jonathan Edwards, Cordell Hull, who was instrumental in the establishment of the United Nations, Hungarian composer Franz Liszt, Theodore Roosevelt, British navigator James Cook, British architect Christopher Wren, Pablo Picasso, David Ben-Gurion, Oscar Wilde, and last but not least, John Lennon.

Sure, that was all relevant and lent greatly to who civilization was as a whole, but none of that was the crowning achievement of October - what the tenth month was best known for was undoubtedly the universal epicness that was Halloween. Also called All Hallow's Eve, an ancient celebration combining the Christian festival of All Saints with Pagan autumn festivals, the 31st was the day that owned all other days. More than the start of fall, this was the month where everyone would get jazzed up for the horror genre (of which he wasn't a particular fan) and would spend all available time and energy into finding that perfect costume for the party or collecting candy, depending on your age and interests. For the redhead and his three closest friends, it was all about nailing the costume contest; the prize for their age group now being actual money for their efforts. So far they were still throwing around ideas, the best of which was Kenny's Suicide Squad (the blonde had turned them on to the comics when the movie was announced) and Cartman's ode to failed franchises that kept going on inexplicably (though there was debate as to if they should be the actors, the directors, or somehow find a way to emulate the films themselves). They were both great ideas, but since Harley Quinn was one of the bigger attractions of the movie and they didn't have anyone that could properly fill her slot, he was currently leaning closer to Cartman's proposal. Kenny said he'd do it, but last year when he went as Columbia in their Rocky Horror group, they had been docked serious points for the frog eye he was so shamelessly sporting (and somehow rocking, despite a random draw for the redheaded floozy).

Issue of how to decide when the vote was divided aside, the boy never imagined that one of his friends would acknowledge that the month was also a favorite for the faculty to start assigning the quarter projects, especially when said friend only paid enough attention to not flunk out. Back home for only five minutes before the phone rang, literally closer in time to four, he had already been on the line for thirty minutes with the blonde, who had opened not with a traditional greeting but the question of why all the teachers were just now announcing these huge, nigh insurmountable tasks. Kyle had tried to tell him that it shouldn't have been all that shocking, that they had said at the beginning of the school year that the students would be handed these projects to be completed by the end of the quarter, but the other teen wasn't listening. Apparently he had something (or rather someone) particular in mind as he launched into the rant of the fixed partner nominations and the perks of allowing the class to pick their own teams. They were actually pretty good points, but Kenny grilling him was not how Kyle wanted to spend his afternoon.

In a perfect world - which the lawyer's son knew would be unachievable in a fucked-up place like South Park with friends like his - that would entail a bottle (or two, as he wasn't much of a drinker) of Zima or some other alcohopop, a good book that he hadn't read before (preferably one that would introduce a fascinating new way of looking at something), a few rounds of X-box with either Ike or Stan, and... Well _that_ depended on what kind of a dream afternoon. If it was to be kept "suitable for general audiences", then the redhead would ideally find himself making a breakthrough in the field of biology that would see him immediately advanced to the position of a head researcher at a prestigious company while still in high school. Were he to be extra generous to himself, the job would also come with news that Cartman would be permanently removed from his life, never to be heard from again. Given free reign... Well that was best left to the imagination.

By the forty-five minute mark, the bibliophile had set down the phone on his desk only to pick it back up long enough to reply vaguely with the occasional 'yeah, dude' as he worked on his stacks of homework, finishing it ten minutes after the second hour (ok, so it wasn't really two hours, but it felt like it). Jade eyes skimming over the bloated contents of his work for mistakes, the hawk-like precision with which he pounced slicing through the buoyant vermilion tangle that tumbled back into his line of sight every time he had to make a correction, the teen offered his first real contribution to the dialogue. Or maybe it would have been more accurate to call it a monologue up to this point? One or the other, the boy fought to hide his annoyance and keep his tone carelessly light as he blurted, "Who would you rather have her be partnered with then? You?" Unless he was very much mistaken, and this past hour told him that he was not, Kyle was under the impression that the chance to make that happen had already come and gone.

Motormouth 4000 clearly dropped something on the other end of the line, leaving Kyle (for whatever reasons) with the image of the other teen at the desk in his room with his legs thrown over the side, a magazine (three guess which kind the king of pervs would be perusing) in hand and a dirty chipped mug of something strong with just a hint of whiskey, vodka, or whatever else he had been able to snatch from his fridge perched precariously on the very edge of the rickety wooden surface. Making a quick yet fumbling recovery, Kenny was audibly shaking his head into the receiver, "I ne'er said anythin' 'bout Hunter!" The bad thing about being friends with someone for so long was that you always knew when they were lying, and they both knew that the blonde was full of shit. "It's not that I like her or anythin', it's jus'... It would've been too easy, so I jus' let her go her own way after lunch."

"Easy how?" Kyle was interested in how his friend came to that conclusion, because he wasn't sold that the girl would be hasty in just jumping to the endgame when getting asked out on a date merited one guy an honest-to-God black eye. True, that was just some punky freshman who's name the redhead didn't know, but still, taking a swing at the poor sap was a bit excessive when the first 'no' was overlooked and the second earned an admittedly forward hand to the forearm. Although in just the third time sitting with the girl for coffee, he had learned that she had a piercing in a place that likely wasn't going to see the light of day, at least so long as she lived in a place like Colorado.

Exasperated to a minor degree at something he apparently felt should have been transparent - funny, Kyle had no idea what that must have felt like - Ken face-palmed himself. "You tell me how much she likes me, and then ya ask somethin' like that? Fuck, dude."

Ok, so in hindsight it wasn't the brightest question he'd ever asked, but he wasn't prepared to admit defeat at this stage. "All my point is is that you shouldn't be so quick to jump to conclusions - she might really surprise you."

Scoffing at that notion, Ken sounded as if he sincerely doubted that it was in the cards for the new girl to say or do anything that could honestly surprise him, which Kyle thought was actually kind of miserable. How jilted had he been to become so cold and disconnected? "Hunter can do whatever she wants, it won't change anything..." Trailing off softly, whatever bitterness had previously been etched into his tone had shifted suddenly, becoming morose, fragile even. "It doesn't matter. I knew that sooner or later one of 'em would be all over her, but Craig? He didn' seem too interested when our imaginations died, but all a sudden they're all chummy? Ya know I'm not for spreadin' rumors, but I overheard Clyde and Craig talkin', and he didn' seem very enthused by Donovan sayin' that he wants to bone her either." Kyle might have pointed out that Clyde was with Bebe now and was unlikely to actually make a move on Hunter despite whatever he said, but considering that Bebe was involved, it seemed to be in poor taste.

For the briefest of moments, there was silence on the end of the line, so Kyle seized the chance to speak his peace, "If it bothers you so much dude, why don't you talk to her when she gets home?" All present evidence would suggest that the girl would be more than willing to hear the blonde out and give him another chance if he only asked. "I can even give you her number so you can call if you don't have it already." Though truth be it seemed weird that the object of the cross-dresser's affections wouldn't have had it by that point in time, so he was probably wasting his breath with that last.

Obvious as the remarks must have been (Jesus, it wasn't fucking rocket science to figure out that like animals in nature, the other boy was jealous because the female (rejected or not) was sniffing around another male), his words seemed to catch the blonde's attention. "That's right, she won' be home for hours..." Kyle didn't like the sound of that light bulb at all, but the blonde was already saying his farewells and hanging up, "See ya later dude!"

What did he just do?

* * *

 **Author's Note** :

OMG! Yay, a review! I was just checking my email for updates, and I happened upon the first review for the story! Thank you so much Grapejuice! I'm really glad to hear that you liked the first chapter so far! I was really worried that the readers would find it to be bloated (much like the beginning of this chapter), so it's a real relief to hear that at least one person likes it :)

Maybe you could argue that I went a little fact happy in the first several sections of this chapter, but in my defense Kyle is an extremely intellectual type, so that made sense to put in and I stand by it. And note, I totes love Columbia! Personally she's not my favorite Rocky Horror character, but she's still cool in my book.

 ***Update 12/26/16***

I honestly don't think I changed a thing this time around...


	10. Some Crimes Are Real, Some Imaginary

Breaking and entering was such an intrusive term for what he was doing, so ugly and negative, but after the lank teen had shimmied up the newly installed drainpipe and undid the simple window latch with the library card Kyle had forced him (and Stan too, since they all agreed that Cartman was enough to deal with being semi-literate) get in middle school, Kenny hadn't really been able to come up with anything better than "elective stalking". Sounding no less creepy when he thought of it like that, at least "breaking and entering" sounded more professional and like something he could brag about to the guys if the fancy struck him. It probably would, although that strongly depended on how tonight ended... Anyways, were the bookworm not so inclined to be aghast at the thought of the laminated slip seeing some serious action in such a manner, the blonde would have thanked him for insisting that he always keep the card handy.

Landing gracefully and with nary a sound inside the darkened room, possessing all the skills of a big time cat burglar, Kenny looked around in the light pouring so unforgivingly through the open window, finding things to be considerably blacker than he expected: walls, posters, sheets, rugs, even the wooden supports underneath the dresser and bed were dismally inky shades of jet with very little supporting color to be found. The CD player was a steely black-gray plastic mimicking metal, the albums towering around all imported or obscure names he didn't recognize, and even the shirts tumbling from the dresser seemed more like tar than vomit. Speaking of the dresser, the blonde tip-toed in that direction and somehow found his hand yanking open the topmost drawer to discover a sea of thongs and briefs, the occasional sock adrift without its other half. Odd, after seeing her standing in the snow in her boxers he would have pegged the girl to have different tastes in underwear. And have more than whatever bra she must have been wearing that day... Unless she was doing the laundry or kept them in a separate drawer? Curiosity getting the best of him - yes, yes, more than mindful of that whole cat proverb - he began to snoop throughout the rest of the contents, prodding and poking but careful to shove everything back the way it had been before he found it. There was no hint of another slingshot to be found.

"What are you doing in my dad's room?" Tone prepubescent and unfamiliar, amusement underlaying a practiced cynicism, Kenny turned to see a boy about his little sister's age, gingerly freckled face crinkled in judgment and scrawny arms tight across a baggy _Falling In Reverse_ t-shirt with stylized pink lips and a blue tongue. Aware that this must have been Avery, and how it probably looked to be caught like this, the teen slowly let the handful of ties slip back through his fingers to the depths whence they came. "If you're looking for the drugs, he doesn't keep them there, trust me." Apparently this kid was used to the sort of thing, to 'help' like this. "They're in an unlocked safe under the bed." At those words, both of them gazed across the room to the cotton cot, the generic hand lotion next to the undecorated box of tissues catching the blonde's bright blues. So this really wasn't Hunter's room after all.

Disgust rising as the burning sensation at the back of his throat threatened to overwhelm, Kenny found his voice just as he discovered his knees and stood back up from his previous crouching position, thinking to himself that he'd need some serious mind-soap for digging through some old guy's unmentionables like that. "So where's yer sister's room?"

Auburn brow raised skeptically, face morphing from points A through F, the boy seemed unable to register the question, as if he was utterly incapable of imaging what anyone would want with his sibling - more than a family thing, even Kenny could admit certain truths about his kin, no matter how reluctantly - which was unfair as she wasn't that unfortunate looking. Would she ever be voted a beauty queen, no way, but the way that the tween was looking at him, one would think that the girl was the less-than-attractive redheaded step child of the Swamp Thing and the bride of Frankenstein, that she had gotten the worst ever beating from the ugly stick. Or maybe in his eyes Hunter was not the victim of a savage pummeling but the horrendous creature where the stick had originated? Either way it was fucked on the child's part, because his sister wasn't that busted.

Confusion giving away to the assumption that this was like Van Helsing scouring Dracula's lair for clues on how to destroy the monster once and for all, or whatever train of thought his goth mind was on, Avery just gave up the information, no preamble, no games, no further questions. "Across the hall." More fucked than Hunter had let on (which made him wonder all kinds of things about her), McCormick came to the decision that the little brother must not have had any sort of a filter to assist a complete stranger that could have had any agenda. "She just text me to say that she'll be gone for awhile, if that matters any to you." There was a small pause as the boy did come up with one question before departing, "Are you her boyfriend? Last night I heard her and her little mechanical friend saying some name over and over, Lenny or something. Is that you?"

"Kenny-"

"Don't hurt her." Demeanor suddenly changing to become protective of his big sister, Avery's eyes darkened considerably to the point they seemed almost as liquid as the vinyl in Mr. Bloodworth's notable collection, "It's one thing if you two are just fucking, she can handle that no problem, but if it's more than that, if you let her think that there's more than that, you should know that Hunter may act all tough and like she's cool, but really when she puts her heart into something, it's all in." Subtle, the older of the two males thought that the glint in in the younger's eyes had shot to his jugular - having his neck ripped into was not a new experience, but having it torn into by another human was. "Sunny's been hurt before, and we won't let that happen again."

 _Sunny?_ Incredulous to believe that that was a nickname for the tomboy, it truly wasn't much of a stretch to see that Hunter could become Hunny, but where the fuck did the 'S' come from? Being his sister it could have been something like sis, but since she also raised him from the sound of it, it also could have been for super. Hell, maybe it was even for something along the lines of syphilis. What, it was totally possible that the spitfire had contracted a number of things he had no idea about; susceptible like a magnet in a staple factory yet immune in the sense that each death offered a clean slate and a fresh bill of health (more or less), that didn't particularly concern him. Regardless, if Kenneth had allowed this to trouble him, and he was not planning on that outcome, he might have supposed that it had something to do with her having a bright disposition, unless of course it was supposed to be ironic.

All but gulping at the seriousness in which the boy spoke - seriously, it was fucking intense, not to mention creepy how he could change from mellow and doleful to bordering on intimidating (Mysterion had fought worse on the street, but still) - the teen didn't want to imagine who else would be jumping in to honor that threat. "Remember that, Lenny." Backing away from the scene like a sulking candy-cane shaped character from a Tim Burton movie, Avery left the way clear for Kenny to make his next move.

Hesitating for a moment, Kenny looked back over his shoulder at where the gentle breeze was rocking the velveteen curtains, the window itself still thrown wide open and welcoming an exit. From the very moment Kyle had given him the idea, the entire point of this exercise was to find out what he could on South Park's newest resident, to gauge how painful their inevitable talk would be - the bookish redhead was right, as per usual. And yes, there was also the component of checking on what the odds would be of her inclination to workout some species of 'friends with benefits' deal. However, now that Avery had said all of that (minus the way in which it had been delivered), the blonde was beginning to think that it was almost pointless to investigate the contents of the girl's room. Goth lite there had pretty much spelled it all out for him after all, and it would have been easy to just turn around and leave, logical even, but could he - nay, did he - want to just cut his losses?

Every inch of him was screaming to just let it go and bail, wailing deep down even to to the marrow of his bones for it, and yet there was something there keeping him rooted in place. For the life of him he couldn't understand why...

 **Craig's POV:**

Un-fucking-believable. It was one thing for the new kid to somehow labor under that same delusion of self-importance as Clyde and follow him up to his room when he said that he had to go and feed Stripe the Third, and even going for the beer in his mini-fridge without an invitation made some sense since they'd be couped up for so long working, but this? That post-war movement was a step too far, even for a guy that gave zero shits since before it was cool and rocked a similar sense of metallic rebellion as his guest. Truly debatable as to what the worst part of it was, at the moment the noirette was leaning to the side of the argument where Hunter was displaying no signs of apology for her actions, and was in fact looking at him as if she were about to do it again...

Propped on hands and knees with six other various half-constructed spheres set aside for later, the squat jars of his paints lined next to the leg of the wicker coffee table his dad had bought from a garage sale (and never heard the end of) left open to dry in cracking canaries and blistering blues, the pair had been diligent and focused for about an three and a half hours. The intent of keeping the other balls nearby and working so closely together was to ensure that their solar system shared a sense of coherency, that one person might have been the creator instead of two. Now regretting it in hindsight - the suggestion, not the plan of attack - it had been the raven whom had suggested that they take a short break so they didn't burn themselves out, to which she had taken a sip of her beer and dropped the brush that had been carefully crafting the swirls of gas in Venus on the sheet of paper towels they were sharing. It was just more economical that way, if not more annoying than need be. Anyways, after setting down the borrowed utensil the girl had rolled over so that she was on her back staring up at the ceiling, one hand still clutched tight on the bottle. "When we go to my place tomorrow, we're doing this at the table."

Very much a classic Craig move, the tall boy merely rolled his eyes at that. "We could just move it to the table now."

"...Meh." Shrugging from where she laid among the navy sea, Bloodworth took a hearty sip from the brew the same as any guy, none of that dainty stuff going on, "we're already set up here, moving would only waste our time. And anyways," adjusting her head so she was looking up at him, Hunter frowned as if truly disappointed, "when we agreed to work out here I thought you'd have a working tv or something going so we could have fun while we worked. Instead my hand is killing me and I'm so bored by the silence..." Groaning more to herself than to annoy him, or probably doing both equally though he couldn't be sure, the tomboy tossed her flat, athletic build around once more so that she was perked on one elbow. Setting aside his own paintbrush and grabbing for his own bottle, he caught the dangerous 'I just got a shitty idea' gleam in her gray-blue eyes. "I might as well at least amuse myself during the respite."

Gazing at her quizzically with a sinking sensation forming in his gut, unsure of how exactly she planed to alleviate her so-called torment, Craig watched with vague interest as she dripped her right index finger as far as it would go into the green paint he had been using for Jupiter, smearing the mossy pigment across his cheek without warning. Jolted awake by the sudden contact - the coloring was a lot colder than it looked, his guess on it having something to do with the temperature outside - the boy felt a shiver running up and down the length of his spine. Reaching into the rust undercoating of the eventual gold and cream that would surface the big V, the boy closed the limited space between them and returned the favor, globing a trail along the other's jawline with not just his index but his middle finger as well.

Back and forth the colors flew from that time on, all blues, greens, reds, and oranges; calling a cease fire as trails of sticky rainbow fingers ran down the collar of her shirt, he got the last blow in, delivering a shot of tangerine flying through the air to land across the front of the girl's long-sleeved undershirt. Blotting at it with the paper towel, the final landmark causalities stood at speckles of citrus bleeding into the furniture and a dotted streak of carmine sinking into the indigo fibers of his carpet, roughly one half of the unpainted earth needing a coat of white to bleach out the splatters of lemon butter. As for the soldiers themselves, the tally wrapped at half a beard, a fucked-up Hitler that strayed too long on the left side, a violet rash born of red and blue getting flicked, and lastly a polychromatic print of a full hand that smacked part of the forehead and vanished into copper hair. After a good fifteen minutes of all-out war and the utter ruination of two perfectly good shirts, the worst happened.

"Well that escalated rather fast..." Nothing short of shocked that Craig would break his stone casing to join in something so unexpected and wild, or whatever equivalent was running through her head at the moment, he realized that Hunter's cheeks were glowing a bright pink that had nothing to do with the paint. At least he had the hunch that it had little enough to do with the project that had escaped the pair of them and more to do with... Well the kindest answer would have been that it was more her just being a mess from getting rejected.

Yet... Reminding himself that the female was notoriously incapable of handling the buzz that came with liquor (if yesterday was any indicator), Craig was suddenly hyper aware that his own cheeks were burning warmer than usual as he pointed a murky finger in the direction of the downstairs bathroom, "We should get cleaned up. Before the paint stains." Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why the hell was he being so dumb?! The convenient answer would have been that the excursion of battle was only just beginning to take it's toll, however that was was bull and he knew it was more than that.

And then it happened. Nodding in agreement, which in itself was a relativity unknown development, the girl proceeded to unceremoniously pull the final layers of what she was apparently wearing off, single deft movement somehow too fast to object to and just slow enough for the noirette to catch each individual motion. Olive and stretched comfortably, the fine fabric was peeled up and away from the fit panes of a healthy stomach, bunching momentarily at much preferred ant bites before getting yanked over her head. Noticing that the river pushing itself along gravity's path was already pooling against the sable of today's bra, a part of him wanted to say something along the lines of her taking that off too, but instead he slightly more focused on the question of why in the world she would do that again? It was completely uncalled for and failed to earn his interest the first time (true that was more due to the circumstances and the logic/stupidity outweighing the importance of the nudity). And yet if he were to be honest (what, he was still a teenage boy after all), it was not completely unwelcome...

* * *

 **Author's Note** :

However you care to look at it, this was not my best written chapter. Like the actual events aren't completely horrible, but the way they happen are, and I'm not completely convinced that Craig's in character. In my defense, I wrote parts of this chapter at like two in the morning, and also, the part just after Avery bails was kinda hard for me to articulate, as was everything that followed. So in other words, this chapter was kind of a recipe for disaster, or waiting for one, or whatever. And yes, it jumped forward a bit more than some of the others (or is that just me?). So what will happen next, I wonder? Well I already have a pretty good clue, but... Oh who am I kidding? Whatever few readers this story had seemed to have fled in droves. Well as discouraging as it is, I'm still going to continue working on this, at least for a bit longer until I change my mind and get sucked into my next obsession/phase.

 ***Update 12/26/16***

Again, very little in the way of change, but on the bright side I can now work on the next chapter! ...A year later... Oops. Well in my defense I did warn you all that another phase was going to happen...


End file.
